


The Frog Princess

by noladyme



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Love, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 71,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27451222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noladyme/pseuds/noladyme
Summary: She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria.In stead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All soundtracked by a endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/You
Comments: 23
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

1

“You can all bloody kiss my ass!”, I growled at the men standing around me. “There isn’t a chance in Hel I’m getting on that ship!”.

“Breathe, Y/N”, Eist tried calmingly. “This is what’s best for everyone”.  
“Best for you and your bloody war!”, I snarled.

In the corner of the great hall stood a mess of cases, containing most of my earthly goods. None of it had any importance to me; except for the small chest of knickknacks I’d gathered while on trips around the smaller islands of Skellige, and the one time Eist had brought me to Cintra Capital with him.

“Y/N, you’re not a child. Stop acting like one”. I smacked him across the face. A murmur of stifled laughter rose among the leather clad men surrounding me and Eist.

King Eist Tuirseach. The great leader of our lands; and my pain in the ass older cousin; who was getting ready to ship me of to a place far away – that I had no intention of going to.

“What you’re really trying to say, is that I’ve gotten too old to marry of to someone worth while; so now you’re using me as payoff to a sweaty sister-fucker!”. I picked up a goblet, and threw it at the wall; mead dripping down from where I’d hit.  
“You don’t know that he’s sweaty”, Eist smiled.

“Eist…”, I said, trying for sweetness.  
He looked at me pointedly.  
“When we are in public, you’ll address me as is fit my title”.

“My liege”, I sneered. “Great majestic cousin, and king of these isles. I am merely trying to explain to you, that if you intend to proceed with this plan of shipping me off to Temeria; there is a great chance that I might burn this whole fucking castle to the ground, and piss on the ashes!”.

I heard a gruff chuckle from a dark alcove connected to the hall.

Eist sighed.  
“Well, we’ll just have to keep you away from fire until you’ve boarded the ship”.

Rage boiling inside me, I stomped my foot into the ground, and screamed.

Eist closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows; shaking his head.  
“You can scream all you want, my dear. This is happening”, he said calmly.  
“No!”, I yelled.  
“Yes”, he answered. “You are going to Temeria. You are marrying Foltest. You’ll bear him whatever children he wishes to produce. And you’ll do it all with a smile”.

A stranger stepped into the light from the alcove. He was tall, and built like a boulder – muscled and strong. His eyes shone a strange shade of amber, and his hair was grey- verging on white.

“Why does he even want me? I have no real title…”, I said.  
“You’re my cousin. That is title enough”, Eist interrupted. He sat down at the head of the table, pouring himself a new goblet of mead. Apparently the one I had thrown was his.  
“Foltest needs a queen. You are a highborn woman; with a dowry that goes with it”. He took a sip from the goblet. “You also happen to be a bloody pain in the ass; with the reputation that goes with that as well. You are lucky Foltest has agreed to this union. You weren’t exactly an easy sell”.

I laughed out loud, and sat at the table, a few seats from him; worried that I might stab him with a fork if I got too close.  
“There it is. A sell. I’m a commodity to be traded with”.

“You will do as you’re told, woman!”, Eist said, patience clearly running thin. I wasn’t having it.

“Would you say that to Calanthe?”.

Eist slammed both his fists into the table.  
“Enough!”, he roared. I froze in place. He breathed deeply, collecting himself. “Y/N; you are my favorite cousin. A fact that has unfortunately let you to run wild and do as you’ve wished for much too long. I cannot allow that to continue anymore”. His pained but resolute eyes met mine. “I know you won’t believe this, but I am doing this for your sake as well. You can no longer call Skellige your home”.

“You’re right”, I said, swallowing tears. “I don’t believe you”.

He looked down, clenched his fists, and sighed.  
“We’ll speak later. I have to finish planning your travel arrangements”, he said; and stood up, walking in the direction of the whitehaired stranger; who’d been watching our exchange with a smirk on his face.

“Geralt, I wish to discuss something with you”, Eist said, before turning to his men. “Take her to her room. Make sure there are no ropes for climbing out the window; cut up her sheets if you must”. He and the man walked towards the door leading to his private chancery.

“And hide the matches”.

\---

I stood in front of a mirror in my now barren room. Thrude – my nanny turned hand matron, and dear friend – was desperately trying to cheer me up.

“Chin up. You’ll be a queen, m’lady”, she said smilingly.  
“I’ll be a puppet”, I answered.  
She raised a sponge to cover my face in powder.  
“Don’t”, I said. “Let them see that I’ve been crying”.  
She sighed.  
“At least brush your hair”. She handed me the hairbrush; and went to get my dress for the feast.

It was a ridiculous thing; nothing near what I would have chosen for myself. Black velvet with puffed sleeves, white laced trim; and a white lily on the front of the skirt. They’re dressing me up as the Temerian fucking flag, I thought.

I brushed my hair; and allowed Thrude’s old hands to run through it, braiding it into and intricate crown on the top of my head. When she was finished, I grabbed her hand, and put it to my cheek.  
“Tootie”. She smiled at my use of the nickname I’d given her as a child. “I could go with you! I could live with you in your cabin. You could continue to train me as a vöelve!”.

“I never trained you to become any such thing”, Thrude said indignantly.  
I smirked at her.  
“Teaching me about herbs, healing and monsters? That’s a proper lady’s education?”.  
“You’d do best to forget those things where you are going”, she said. She put her hands on either side of my face; and looked at me kindly but sternly.

“Listen to me, girl”. I hadn’t been a girl for quite a few years; but her age and the respect I held for her made me accept her choice of words. “Skellige is not the place for you anymore. You are off to a better future than you could ever have here... or anywhere else”.

I snorted in a quite undignified way.  
“A future as the wife of someone who is only taking me, for the money my cousin will pay him to do so… as a stepmother of a girl conceived through incest; and whose age I am closer to, than I am her fathers!”. I swallowed bile. “I’m going to be sick”.  
I put my head between my knees; my nose touching the velvet of the dress. She patted my head comfortingly.

“You must leave this place behind”, she said. “Become what is expected of you”.  
“Instead of…?”. I looked up at her.

She looked down and shook her head. “That’s for another time”. She shuffled her old body in the direction of my bed – the bare mattress reminding me of my cousins’ heartless elimination of my escape plan.

“But there won’t be another time”. I stood up. “I leave tomorrow”.

“Then cherish tonight”, she said.

From under the bed, she pulled out a small pouch; and handed it to me.  
“My own mother gave me this on my wedding night”, she said; tears in her eyes. “I was saving it for you; for when you’d finally stop being a little imp, and settle down with a good man”. She shook her head. “At least he’s a king…”.  
I chuckled through my tears, and took the pouch in my hands, opening it. Inside was a silver chain, adorned with an appendage shaped as a small frog.

“Ma’ told me that sometimes you get a frog; but shower it with enough kisses, and it might turn in to a prince”. She helped me put it on. “In your case; I believe it’s the other way around. You are stubborn, you act before you think, and you jump around too much”. She kissed my forehead. “But you can be something more”.

She took both my hands into hers and squeezed them gently.  
“You can be a queen. And one to be reckoned with!”.

I sniffled.  
“All I have to do is let a man I don’t know and don’t want, kiss me… and touch me… and…”. I heaved. “I really think I’m going to throw up!”.

She chortled.  
“He managed to bed his own sister. He must have some charms”. She winked at me. “Might even have a good enough cock to go with them”.

“Tootie!”, I cried out.

“Oh, calm yourself, girl! You know your way around a mands body. We both know that”.  
She wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t give her the pleasure of an answer. In stead I rolled my eyes at her.

“There we are, dearie. Now I recognize you”, she smiled. “Remember, it is not unheard of, for queens to take lovers other than their husbands. You might not even have to bed him that often”.

I sighed.  
“What am I going to do without you?”.

She patted my cheek.  
“You are going to grow up”.

\---

The great hall was filled with laughter and dancing.

A bard from the continent was playing his lute; surrounded by red-cheeked girls, all vying for his attention. He seemed to me to be an absolute windbag; but I could understand the effect he had on them; blue eyed and brightly smiling.

As I stepped into the room; the music stopped, and the crowd turned to look at me. A roar of cheers and well wishes from all sides; and my strongest impulse was to turn around, and run back up the stairs.  
Thrude took a firm hold of my hand, and pushed me forward.  
“Go on, girl. This is your night”.

The bard began his music again, leading the room into a singalong of a gay tune; about a selkie and her lover. Dancing continued, and drinks were flowing. This was a joyous event – and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock; and die.

We were stopped in our tracks by a tall man, I had not met before.  
“Lady Y/N”, he said haughtily. “Let me congratulate you on this glorious occasion of your engagement and upcoming marriage. I must admit that my master had hoped a different arrangement could have been made. But, alas, here we are”.  
“I’m sorry”, I said, caught off guard. “Who is your master?”.

“My apologies, my lady”, the man bowed. “I am a representative of Nilfgaard; Gaunter O’Dimm. Loyal servant of the true emperor of the fore mentioned lands”.  
“Usurper”, Thrude said, and spat at the floor. She pulled at my hand.

“I am sorry, sir, but I must take my leave. I must see my cousin”, I smiled, voice shaking.  
“Of course, my lady. I wish you good health”, O’Dimm said, and stepped aside for us to pass.

“Who was he?”, I asked Thrude.  
“No one good”, she answered quietly.

I sat down at the head table, watching the festivities; completely numb. The small silver frog rested between my breasts, cold against my skin.

“You look beautiful”; Eist said from next to me.  
“I look like a pig for market”, I answered, pulling at the uncomfortable corset Thrude had squeezed me in to.  
“Well; a lovely pig none the less”, he said.

I spent most of the night staring into space; not touching any of the food placed in front of me. The mead and schnapps on the other hand; I had my fair share of.

“You must eat”, Eist grumbled.  
“Not fat enough for slaughter yet?”, I sneered.  
“You’re not being slaughtered. You’re getting married”, he answered.  
“What’s the difference?”, I mumbled.

A fight broke out in front of the table. Well; not so much a fight as a beating.  
A drunk distant cousin of Crach an Craite’s new wife, had apparently taken a disliking to the bard reciting a sonnet to his fiancée; and was now dragging him by the nose to the floor in front of us.

“Witcher!”, the drunkard growled. “Control your pet!”.

The whitehaired stranger was leaning against a pillar; staring into a mug of ale.  
“He’s not my pet”, he muttered with a gruff voice. It sounded like it came from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Well, I don’t know how you do it on the continent”, the drunkard said, “but here in Skellige, if a mutt is acting wild; we cut of his balls!”.

The bard looked terrified.  
“Geralt!”, he pleaded. “Do something!”.  
The angry man pulled out his dagger and started waving it in front of him; swaying from side to side – obviously having trouble focusing through his drunken haze.

“Ger… Geralt!”, the bard shrieked. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

Eist looked at me.  
“Rognir! You’ve made the lady smile! Thank you!”, he laughed. “Now let the poor lad go”.

The man burped.  
“Bugger that”, he said, and stepped forward, dagger raised.

A hand grabbed his wrist, and pulled it behind his back. The stranger was holding the drunkard in an armlock.  
“That’s enough”, he said. “Leave the bard, drink some water; and go remind your woman why she chose you in the first place”.

The bard ran to safety behind a group of girls; who all began to fuss over him.

The stranger let go of Rognir; who shuffled away into a dark corner; where a plump girl was waiting for him.

“Wolf”, Eist said. “Join us”.

He sat down on the opposite side of the table from us; accepting a new mug of ale from a servant.

“Y/N; this is Geralt of Rivia”, Eist said.  
My eyes met the strangers; who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Geralt, let me formally introduce you to my cousin; Y/N. The future queen of Temeria”.

“Princess”, the man nodded at me.  
“I’m not a princess”, I answered, and drained my fourth serving of mead that evening.

“She’s right”, Eist said, and took away my goblet. “Princesses don’t usually drink like sailors”.  
The stranger chuckled.  
“Y/N; Geralt is a witcher”, Eist continued. “I have asked him to accompany you on your journey to your new home”.  
The witcher looked at me again, his eyes narrowed.

“Him?”, I asked. “What happened to me being a future queen? Don’t I get a dozen soldiers on white horses?”, I snorted, and grabbed my glass of schnapps to replace the mead.

“No, you don’t. Mostly because I know you’d either annoy them until they leave you on the side of the road; or try to seduce some of them into letting you run away”, Eist said. I rolled my eyes.  
“Don’t give me that, Y/N; I’m not stupid. Poor Eyrick’s heart is still broken after your tryst last spring”.

Eyrick – firm, handsome… dumb as rocks. I’d made it clear I was in it for one thing. He’d taken that as a sign that I was playing hard to get; and sold his only goat to buy an engagement ring.

“Did he ever get his goat back?”, I smirked.  
“I bought him two new ones”, Eist answered. “The other one had already been made into dinner”.

I laughed heartily.  
“Poor Eyrick”.  
“Poor goat”, the witcher said. I caught his gaze. Had the situation been different, I might have flirted with him; handsome as he was… in his own rugged, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-I’m-wearing-as-long-as-it’s-clean way. I corrected myself as I saw a black stain on his sleeve.  
“Nekker”, he said, studying my expression. I held his gaze for as long as I dared, and returned to my glass.

A sudden rush of blood to my head reminded me that Eist had probably been right about me eating. I was well and drunk.

“So”, I said, “Eist has asked you, but you’ve not accepted? Coin not good enough?”.  
“I don’t make it a habit to meddle in politics”, he rumbled, and took a sip from his mug.

“See, cousin?”, I smirked. “Even the witcher knows a livestock trade when he sees one”.  
“Not the time, Y/N”, Eist muttered, and put a chunk of bread on my plate. I took a resentful bite of it.

“Geralt”, Eist said. “I am not asking you to take a side in the war. I am asking you, as a friend, to keep my cousin safe until she is in the arms of her new husband. Nilfgaard has been making moves north of their boarders, and I worry she will be in danger from kidnapping on her journey”.  
The witcher sighed. Eist leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You are many things, wolf, but you are not heartless. You’ve already shown me this once. You know what might happen, if they get to her before she reaches her destination”.

“And what is that?”, I interrupted.  
Eist sat back.  
“You won’t have to worry about that, if the witcher agrees to my proposition”. He smiled solemnly; before looking back at the witcher. “I will pay what you ask”.

They were both quiet for a long minute. Something unspoken passed between them, before finally the witcher grunted; and nodded. He took another sip of his ale.

“How is the child?”, he asked.  
“Last I heard, still growing in its mothers’ belly”, Eist answered. “She’s well, and will – along with the child – have the best care both during and after the birth. You know I would not lie about this”.  
The witcher nodded again.

“So, you will do it?”, Eist asked.  
“I will. On my terms”.

“Of course”, Eist answered, seeming relieved. “Anything. I have the ship ready for tomorrow afternoon, and will send any men with you that you might need. The lady’s belongings have already been packed, and horses will be waiting for you in Cintra Capital once you make land. Nilfgaard will be relentless in their search for her. They want nothing more right now, than to stop this wedding”.

“No”, the whitehaired man said. “We leave tonight. She packs light; and we take a fisherman’s ship to Attre; travelling on from there. Just her and myself”. A giggle was heard from behind a pillar; where the bard was charming one of the maidens from his fan-club. “And him. If he stays here longer, I’m afraid he’ll become a gelding in no time”, he said, glancing at a stout and angry looking old man; who was probably the girl’s father.  
Eist nodded.

My head was beginning to clear, as I was realizing what was happening.  
“You’re sending me with him? On a fisherman’s boat across the ocean; to then traipse across the continent in nothing but my plain dress and boots?”.  
“You can bring your sgian-dubh”, the witcher chuckled gruffly. I was surprised he knew the word for my hidden knife.

“I don’t have one”, I said, and looked at him defiantly.  
“Yes you do; you’ve strapped it to your leg”, he said in a bored voice. Eist bit his lip to stop from laughing at my affronted face.  
“Calm yourself, girl. I haven’t been looking up your skirts. The velvet in your dress gave away the shape of the knife against your thigh”.

I scoffed at him.  
“Well, you were looking at something, since you noticed my thigh”, I said.  
“You’d be better of slipping it into your boot. Makes it easier to reach when needed”, he smirked.

I did not like this man. 

“Eist…” I began.  
“It’s done”, Eist answered.  
“I’m begging you…”, I pleaded, “in the name of the love I know you have for me – please. Don’t make me do this. I can fight. Make me a shield maiden!”.  
“That would require that you actually were a maiden, dear heart”, he said. “Y/N, I do love you. That is why I am doing this”.

My heart dropped, and tears began to well up in my eyes, as I desperately tried to control my panicked breath.

“Wolf; I’ll send the ship to Cintra tomorrow afternoon, as planned, packed with men and the lady’s luggage. They will travel to Temeria; pretending to be transporting her – but the carriage will be empty”.  
“That will give us some extra days before they come looking for us”, the witcher answered. He turned to look at me.

“Princess, finish your meal calmly, then make your way to the courtyard. Pretend to be going to relieve yourself. I will meet you there”.  
I was breathing heavily.  
“No…”, I whimpered. “Not yet. Let me have tonight. Let me sleep in my own bed. I want to say goodbye”.

Eist was pretending to smile, his eyes miserable.  
“This is goodbye, Y/N”, he said, and took my hand to kiss. “I wish I could have made things different for you, child. You have my heart and my brotherly love; always”. He stroked my cheek.

“Now go!”. He turned away from me.

From behind me, Thrude put her hand on my shoulder, gesturing for me to follow. Not breathing, I grabbed it, and we walked briskly towards the door nearest our table.

\---

We hurried down some stairs. Going in to the courtyard, I halted; making Thrude turn to look at me.  
“Come along, dearie. We must haste”.  
“Tootie… will I ever see you again?”.  
She looked down.  
“I hope so, child”. She kissed my cheek.

“Princess!”, someone hissed from the shadows. The whitehaired witcher stepped into the moonlight. “Follow me”. He walked towards the stables.  
Thrude let go of my hand, and patted my back to follow him.  
“Go on!”, she whispered.

I walked into the stable, where the witcher and the bard were waiting.  
“My lady!”, the young man said, and bowed in reverence. “It has been a great honor to perform at this extraordinary event, but unfortunately my friend here insists that we must leave”. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, beaming at me.

“She’s coming with us”, the witcher said; readying his horse – a beautiful red mare.

The bard looked from me to his friend.  
“She’s… the package?”, he asked in disbelief.  
“Yes”, the other man answered.  
“Geralt… are you sure this is a good idea?”; the bard said below his breath.  
“No”, the witcher grumbled, and looked at me indifferently. “Change”, he said, and threw a satchel on the ground in front of me.  
I was getting tired of being bossed around.  
“Why?”, I asked.  
“Because I said so”.  
“Go to Hel”, I said. The bard gasped at my words.  
“Bad-mannered words for a lady!”, he proclaimed.  
“Go fuck yourself, milksop”, I sneered.

“Geralt!”, the bard cried out.  
“Shut up, Jaskier. Do you want the whole castle to know what we’re doing?”, the witcher said; and walked towards me, picking up the satchel.

“Put on the clothes in the bag. I’m not asking you again”. I smirked at him defiantly.

He grabbed my arm, and looked at me; dormant rage in his eyes. His hold on me was strong, but not painful.  
“I will strip you down myself if needed”, he said.

I ripped the satchel from his hands, and went behind a wall to change. Inside the bag was a simple white chemise; and a blue, sleeveless peasant dress, which could lace up in the front, making me able to put it on myself.  
I reluctantly removed my sgian-dubh from my thigh, and slipped it into my boot.

From behind the wall I hear muffled talking.

“Geralt, this is madness. You can’t drag the future queen of Temeria across the continent on horseback”, the bard – Jaskier – said. “She needs pomp and… spectacle and ceremony; and everything else that goes with the title. Not to mention that she is rude; and will probably get in the way when we are fighting monsters!”.  
“You don’t fight Jaskier. You moan and whine, and run away at any sign of danger”, the witcher answered.  
“That’s not the point, Geralt… Geralt… Look at me when I’m talking to you!”.  
“What are you; my wife?”.  
“Gods forbid. I’m quite sure I’d be able to make a better match!”.  
“Well, if you come all the way to Temeria with us, maybe Foltest will choose you in stead of the princess. He does have strange tastes”.

“I’m not a princess!”, I thundered, and stomped out to face them.

The witcher looked at me, clearly about to roar for me to shut up. At the same moment, Thrude stepped in to the stable, carrying a gray cloak.

“Are you all ready to leave then?”, she said, and put the cloak around my shoulders, tying it under my chin.  
“Yes”, the witcher answered, and climbed onto his horse. “Come”, he said, and reached his hand out to me.

“She gets to ride?”, Jaskier asked woundedly.

I put my hand into the witchers, and he pulled me into the saddle in a swift and strong move; to sit in front of him, my back to his chest. He smelled like fresh dirt; musky herbs and metal.

“Pomp and spectacle, Jaskier”, his voice rumbled behind me. “Hood up, girl”, he demanded, and I did as asked.

I looked at the bard.  
“The grey stallion”, I said earnestly. “It’s mine. You can bring it as far as the ship”. Thrude smirked, and shook her head at me.

“Witcher; you will take care of her”, she said. A command; not a question.  
The witcher grunted behind me.  
“As promised”, he said. Thrude nodded.

With a last look towards my beloved old friend; I kissed the frog still hanging around my neck; and we we’re off.

\---

We rode through the night, reaching a small harbor when the moon was at its highest. A fisherman was waiting for us, standing on the dock by an old boat; just large enough to transport all of us, and the witchers horse.

After Jaskier had gotten of the grey stallion, I smacked it’s behind, making it run of into the trees.

“Eist won’t like it when his favorite horse is gone from the stables”, the witcher said.  
Jaskier looked from him to me with horror on his face.  
“I’m a dead man!”, he whimpered.

The witcher chuckled silently, and handed me the satchel that had held my “new” dress.  
“Your name is Zaba. You are an herbalist in training, on your way to Lyria; to learn from your new master there”.  
I looked at him confused.  
“Zaba?”  
“It means frog”, he added, and turned to lead his horse onto the boat.

I frowned, and looked down at my necklace.  
Frog.  
Opening the satchel, I found in it some dried herbs, and a small book; filled out with what I recognized to be Thrude’s handwriting.  
There were recipes for draughts against headaches and simple stomach pains. Most of them I already knew; as Thrude had been diligent in her training of me as a non-vöelve. I had never been able to see the future, or predict next year’s crop; but I did know my way around simple healing of wounds and the occasional childbirth.  
I’d also managed to avoid pregnancy with the few lovers I’d had.

Along with my herbalist gear, there were fresh undergarments and stockings; and a few copper coins.

The fisherman giving me a hand; I stepped onto the boat; almost forgetting that this might be the last time my feet would be touching Skellige soil.  
The witchers horse brayed.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Roach. But we’ll be in Attre before you know it.”, the witcher said to it.  
I looked on in wonder.

“He talks to his horse. You best get used to it”, Jaskier said, stepping onto the boat after me. He didn’t look like he’d forgiven me for making him a horse-thief just yet.

I walked up to the mare, standing on the other side of it than the witcher.  
“Her name is Roach?”, I asked.  
“Yes”, he said, not meeting my eyes.

I put my hands on the horse’s muzzle, and blew gently at it; the horse responding in kind. The witcher looked at me with narrowed eyes.  
“Hello, Roach”, I said, and scratched a spot behind its ear. “Thanks for the ride”.

I went to sit at the stern.  
“Wouldn’t the lady be more comfortable below deck?”, the fisherman asked.  
“She’ll be fine”, the witcher rumbled in response; and sat down to lean against a barrel.

We set off; the wind in our favor. It wasn’t long before my home islands became dots in the distance behind us.

I might not have a home there anymore, I thought. But no one is going to tell me where I will make a new one!  
\---


	2. Chapter 2

2

The rank smell of rotten seaweed and fish woke me up.

“Ah. The lady awakes!”, Jaskier scowled at me from where he was standing at the railing. His face looked as I was feeling. Nauseous and miserable.

“You slept all morning”, he said, clutching a handkerchief; occasionally holding it to his mouth. “Are we there yet?”, he called to the fisherman.  
“It’ll be a few hours yet, good bard. Try singing a song; it might take your mind of your stomach”.  
Jaskier heaved a few times, before leaning over the railing, and parting with his breakfast.

I wrinkled my nose at the sight, and stood up; feeling stiff and uncomfortable. Walking towards the middle of the ship, I almost fell over.  
“Sea legs not strong?”, the witchers gravelly voice said. He was wiping down a long sword, that looked as if it was completely made out of silver.

“I’m a Skelliger. My sea legs are perfect. I’m just hung over”, I sneered.  
”For a Skelliger, I don’t know which would be more embarrassing”, the witcher smirked. It was only the third time I’d seen him smile. It wasn’t unpleasant; but I couldn’t let it distract me.

“Why Attre?”, I asked. “Going through Cintra Capital would be faster. You wouldn’t have to drag me as far”.  
“Are you saying I will have to drag you?”, he asked.  
“You’re avoiding the question”, I retorted.

“The Capital would be the obvious move; and could possibly bring armies to the gates of the city”. He looked worried for a second.

“I suppose I wouldn’t want to bring that on Calanthe”, I said.  
He raised a brow at me.  
“You like her”, he said, more as a statement than a question.  
“I respect her”, I said. “I don’t agree with all her politics, but she’s strong, stubborn and intelligent; and she has her peoples best in mind”.

“What makes you so sure that she knows what is best?”, he asked, looking at me.  
“I’m not. But that’s not the point”. I pulled my cloak around me; shielding myself against the cold afternoon sea breeze. “Her people have roofs over their heads, full bellies and well stocked markets”.  
“And the elder folk?”, the witcher challenged.

“That is a subject she and I disagree on. But, wrong or right, she doesn’t take shit from any man. Not even my cousin can tame her. I think that’s why he loves her so much”. I smiled to myself.  
The witcher held back a laugh, and continued his task; leaving me to find something to soothe my upset stomach.

\---

We made landfall – about 10 miles south of Attre – as the sun was setting; once again leaving us to ride through the dark.  
The witcher had declined Jaskiers plea to take a room at an inn for the night; making the bard sulk as we traipsed through the forest.

The witchers decision fit my plan well; as I didn’t think it would be good to have to sneak out of a crowded inn; leaving witnesses in my wake. I’d rather disappear quietly into the forest as the witcher slept. I hadn’t caught him resting yet, and I figured we’d soon need to stop for the night.

Reaching a small glade, the witcher built a fire, and we made to have supper – fried fish; from the catch the fisherman had been so kind as to let us have a small ration of.

The color having returned to Jaskiers face; his mood had also lifted. He was tuning his instrument, and struck a few chords, earning a groan from the witcher.  
“I forgive you”, the bard said.  
“What?”, I asked, confused.  
“For being rude… and making me steal Eists horse”.

I snickered.  
“I didn’t make you do anything”, I said. “I just told you a white lie, to get you to stop moaning like a child about having to walk”.  
Jaskier tightened his lips.  
“Well, I forgive you anyway”, he said, with an insincere smile. “It must be difficult to be taken from your home, and shuttled of into the arms of a man you don’t know”.

I wanted to punch him in his handsome face; but simply nodded.  
“Thank you very much. That is very kind of you”.

His eyes warmed.  
“I’ve actually been working on a little tune for you, my lady”.  
The witcher looked up at him; with his eyes willing him to shut up – to no avail.

The bard strung a major chord.

“Lady, my lady, your beauty is rare.  
Your eyes have the power, a man to ensnare.  
Princess, oh princess, with skin so smooth.  
Your beauty is great; though your mouth is uncouth”.

I chuckled.

“Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me  
And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee.  
Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea  
And I shall be ever a servant of thee”.

I clapped my hands, laughing at his little ode. He was a fine singer, and seemed like a goodhearted man underneath his pretty boy exterior.

“That was… different”, I laughed.  
“Well it’s from the heart”, Jaskier smiled.

“Do you want to draw in the wolves?”, the witcher snarled at us.  
“Well, pardon me for trying to lighten the mood, Geralt. Would you rather have the young lady sulking the whole night?”, Jaskier said.  
“She can do whatever she wants, as long as she stays quiet; and finishes making dinner”.

“I’m not cooking”, I said, looking at the fish hanging from the stick he handed me.  
“If you want to eat; you are”, he said.  
“Shove it up your ass”, I snarled.  
“I’ll shove it up yours”, he answered; and probed the stick into my hand.

I was about to whack him over the head with it, when Jaskier stepped in, and grabbed the fish from me.  
“I’ll do it, princess”.

“Stop calling me a fucking princess!”, I shrieked; an owl fleeing from a nearby tree at the sound of my voice.  
Jaskier stifled a smile.  
“I can’t imagine why you haven’t been married yet”, he chuckled. “Can’t even cook…”, he mumbled, and walked towards the fire.

“I can cook just fine”, I said. “I can cook, bake, sow and milk a fucking cow with the best of them. I just won’t. I don’t like being told what to do…”, I said.  
“Because you’re spoiled”, the witcher said, voice bored.  
“You know nothing about me”, I answered.

I went to stand by the fire; warming my hands. Jaskier served us the fish a few moments later, and we ate quietly.

“You could let me go”, I said, breaking the silence.  
“No”, said the witcher. “You’re my contract”.  
“In that case all you need is a head. I saw a fresh grave a few miles back. Foltest doesn’t know what I look like; you could pop back and dig her up”.  
“Her?”. The witcher suddenly seemed interested.

“There was a plank with her name and age on it. It could work”, I jeered.  
His eyes met mine.

“Get some sleep”, he said; pulled out his sword, and laid it next to him, before he laid down himself, head resting on his folded-up cloak.  
“Jaskier, you take first watch”. The bard rolled his eyes.  
“Yes, sir. Would you like a foot massage while I’m at it?”.  
“Do what you want. Just don’t wake me up”.

He closed his eyes, and seemed to fall asleep instantly.

I laid down; trying to make myself comfortable. I’d slept on bare ground before, but the treetops were to close together for me to be able to see the stars; so, I wasn’t enjoying the experience as I’d done then.

Just wait, I thought, have patience. Let the bard get drowsy.

I heard a small snore from near the fire. Jaskier hadn’t been able to stay awake long.  
Now or never.

I crawled to my feet, and ran.

\---

My skirts were catching on the thickets, and it was difficult to find my way. I knew I had to find a place where I could see the sky; and find the north star. I didn’t know why I would go north, but I needed a direction.

There was a crackle of twigs behind me; and I looked back to see a deer running in the opposite direction. Sighing in relief, I continued; lifting my skirts around me, to free my legs.

I felt a sudden pang of fear from the fact that I was running in a strange forest in a strange land; without direction or goal.

Where am I going?, I thought. I can’t run back to the harbor. A village? If I find a village, I can maybe pay my way onto a carriage, get to Cintra Capital, and find passage home… If they’ll take me back.

I heard a hoot, and the sound made me trip over my legs in surprise. You win this one, owl!, I thought.  
Getting back onto my feet, I noticed my dress was stuck on a branch. I desperately tried to get it lose without ripping it, and I heard running behind me. My heart climbed into my throat.  
With a hard yank, the skirt came lose, leaving a long tear on the side of it.

“Shit”, I whispered to myself; picked up my skirts again, and ran on.

Reaching a small stream, I searched franticly for a spot to cross it, that wouldn’t get me soaked.  
I saw a stone sticking up over the water a few yards further on, and ran towards it; jumping onto it tentatively. It didn’t sink.  
Looking at the opposite side of the water than from where I came, there was a tuft of grass that seemed dry. I held my breath, and jumped again.

One of my feet landed on dry land, the other sank into the mud. I couldn’t feel a bottom, and panicked, leg stuck from my thigh down.

“What are you doing, little frog?”.

The witcher was looking down at me. He had crossed the stream without as much as a drop of water touching his boots, and at that moment I hated him more than I had hated anyone before.

“Leave me alone!”, I yelled.  
“No”, he said, and sauntered up to me; grabbing my thigh, and pulling me free from the mud. “You are coming back with me”, he said, and took a hold of my arm.

I saw a broken branch on the ground, grabbed it; and swung it at him, narrowly missing his head, as he drew back with inhuman speed.   
His confusion gave me enough time to set of running again, and I made it about 10 seconds, before two strong hands gripped my waist, swung me around, and threw me to the ground.

The witcher was laying on top of me; holding both my wrists above my head, and pinning my legs with his own.  
“Stop struggling!”, he said; not allowing me to move my hands.  
“Let me go”, I yelled; and tried to make my knee meet his groin, unsuccessfully. He bared his teeth.

“You are not playing nice, little frog”, he said; getting up – and threw me over his shoulder, to carry me back.  
I kicked, hit him and screamed as loudly as I could. Reaching my hand around, and scratching him across his face; he finally put me down.

“That hurt”, he growled.  
“Good!”, I sneered back at him; and went for another hit.  
His hand caught my wrist; and holding on to it, he backed me up against a tree; pinning me to it, by putting his knee between my legs and lifting it, until my feet no longer touched the ground.  
“You might just be more hassle than you’re worth; but I made a deal, and I intend to honor it!”, he hissed; eyes ablaze.

My voice hitched, partly from fear – and partly from the sensation of his knee between my legs.  
“Are you going to punish me now, witcher?”, I said; a small part of me hoping for a yes.

His hand flew to my throat; holding it, and squeezing it lightly.  
“Don’t. Play. With. Fire”, he said as calmly as he could – which wasn’t very.  
His face so close to mine, I could feel his warm breath on my skin. I bit my lip; unable to control the smile that ghosted across my face. Then he let me go.

Landing with a bump on the ground, I felt a sharp pain in my knee. I had landed on a stone, that had cut open a gash about two inches wide.

“Fuck”, the witcher grumbled above me.

I struggled not to cry; but couldn’t hold back a whimper, when I touched the wound.

“Let’s go”, the witcher said; picked me up, and began walking back towards the camp, carrying me all the way.

“Where were you?”, Jaskier said, voice panicked; as we came back into the light of the fire.  
“You fell asleep”, the witcher grumbled; and set me down on the ground. He fetched a small pouch from his satchel, and kneeled down next to me, lifting my skirt above my knee to tend to it.  
“Well, it’s been a very trying day”, Jaskier retorted; and went to poke at the fire, making the embers light up.

“He’s sensitive”, the witcher said, and looked at my wound.  
“Am not!”, Jaskier said; hurt. “I’m just not accustomed to being left alone in the middle of the woods with nothing to protect myself but my lute”.  
“If someone came to rob you, you could always sing to them. Might make them turn around and leave”.  
Jaskier gasped.  
“Well!... I never!...”, he said, and puffed his chest out, before laying down; his back to us. “I’m going to sleep”.

The witcher poured some water onto a piece of cloth, and began rinsing the dirt and blood away from my knee. I hissed at the sting from his touch; and tried to pull my leg away from him. He grabbed my calf, and held it in place.  
“Sit still”.  
“I can clean my own wounds”, I said.  
“I’m sure you can. But you landed in some blood moss, and I don’t want it to fester”, he retorted; and pulled out a small flask.  
“This will sting. It wasn’t made for humans to use; but it’ll cauterize the wound”. He looked at me seriously. “Hold on to me”.

He put my wounded leg over his own; took a firm hold of my ankle; leaning, so that I couldn’t see what he was doing. I took a hold of his arm; and held my breath.   
A sudden excruciating burning sensation spread across my knee; making me scream from the pain. I threw my arms around his bicep, and pressed my forehead into his shoulder, sobbing.  
“Shh”, he said. “It’s done”.  
I felt his thumb stroke my calf; and the feeling made a warmth spread up my leg; towards my core – mixing pain with pleasure I didn’t know how to react to.

I lifted my head, and our eyes met. His shone in the light of the fire, at once shallow and bright; at the same time deep as an amber ocean, hiding secrets below.   
He was excavating my own, it seemed – drawing out my deepest desires, fears and insecurities. It was disconcerting and intriguing all at once.

Remembering himself, he looked down at my knee.  
“There”, he said, handing me a bandage. “You can wrap it up now”.  
Where the gash had been was now and angry red line covered in small blisters. It stung, but I could tell that it would probably heal well.

I was wrapping the bandage around my knee; when a hollow shriek broke the silence.

“Would you stop screaming, woman?”, Jaskier yelled, and sat up. “He already fixed your bloody wound…”.

“Shut up!”, the witcher hissed. He was standing alert, looking into the dark.  
“Ger…”, Jaskier began.  
“Sshh!”.

The witcher picked up his sword from the ground.  
“Stay by the fire!”. He drew a complex figure in the air, and a purplish haze rose around us.

From behind the trees a grey mist drew closer.  
“I told you we should have stayed at an inn”, Jaskier whimpered.

I drew my hidden knife, and stepped forward.  
“Stay back”, the witcher growled; not taking his eyes of the mist. “It’s a moonwraith!”.  
“Oh, gods”, Jaskier said, his face once again turning green. “I’d do what he says”.

From the mist floated a spectre; screaming and moaning. Its face was horrifying – a long tongue hanging out of a jawless mouth. Its eyes were two large holes, and tattered rags hung from its thin limbs, not leaving the creature with any modesty.

The witcher held his sword with both hands, and stepped forward to face it. My whole body was shaking; and I realized that it was because Jaskier was holding on to my arm; shivering in fear.

The witcher slashed at the figure; making it draw back with an anguished roar. It swept forward, and our protector rolled across the ground to avoid it. He got back on his feet gracefully, flanking the spectre; and gutting a gash into its side – gray fog streaming out where blood should have been.

The witcher sprang for his satchel; grabbing a small bottle, that looked like the one he had used for my knee.  
He poured the content over his sword quickly, before putting the bottle to his lips, taking a small sip.  
He groaned, and fell back a step.

I ran forward, slashing at the ghost with my knife. It shrieked, and swung at me. There was a hard hit to my side; and I flew across the ground; landing near the fire; inside the ward the witcher had put up for us.

He looked back at me; his amber eyes gone. They were now black, and his skin impossibly white and grey. He looked like he walked the thin line between life and death – death not taking him, but strengthening him instead. The sight was terrifying.

He roared, and jumped into the air; slashing his sword through the spectre, making it tumble in the air, and fall back. He lifted his hand, and a force – like a gush of hard wind – flowed from out from it; pushing the creature against a tree. The witcher made a different sign in the air; and the spectre became more corporeal in its appearance.

He lifted his sword a final time; and slashed downwards; splitting the creature in half. A final scream, making the ground shake – and there was only quiet.

My heart was beating so hard and fast that I thought I could see it through my chest.

The witcher turned around – his ghastly white face sprayed with black blood. He marched up to me with impossible speed, and grabbed my arm; drawing me in so close that our faces almost crashed together.

“I told you to stay by the fire!”, he roared at me; black eyes digging into to me. “You could have been killed, you stupid girl”.

“Geralt…”, Jaskier tried calmingly, his knees still shaking.

Grabbing me by the back of my neck; the witcher bared his teeth into a sneer.  
“I should have let her have you!”. He pushed me away harshly, letting me land on my bottom. I was frozen in place.

“Geralt”, Jaskier said again, stepping between us. “She didn’t know. She was trying to help”.  
“I don’t need help”, answered the witcher; and stomped away to clean up.

Jaskier crouched next to me.  
“Best leave him alone a little while”. He patted my shoulder.

I didn’t move for a long time. I couldn’t feel the heat from the fire, nor could I move to get closer to it. I just sat there, cold and strangely devastated by the situation. In the end, I simply laid down, crawling in to myself; and fell asleep.

\---


	3. Chapter 3

3

I woke to the smell of something sweet and tangy. My whole body was aching from having lain in such an uncomfortable position on the cold ground. I pulled myself up to sit, turning towards the embers of the fire.  
The witcher sat by it, stirring a small pot.

“Another one of your concoctions?”, I asked.

He looked up at me – his face once again a healthier shade; and his eyes amber.  
“Actually, it’s breakfast”, he answered, and handed me a small wooden bowl, filled with a bluish gruel.  
“Berry porridge”, he said. “It’s not the kind of cooking you’re used to; but it’s what we have”.

I tasted it tentatively. It was delicious. I ate my fill, and accepted seconds when the witcher offered it.

“Did she come from the grave back there?”, I asked, putting down the bowl finally.   
“Yes”, he answered shortly. “The grave was fresh, and the ground unconsecrated. She was killed in disgrace; probably by a lover”.  
“Poor girl”, I mumbled, and instantly felt ashamed of how I’d joked about him taking her head.

He stood up, and began kicking dirt into the embers.  
“She’s gone now”.  
“At peace?”, I asked.  
“I don’t know”, he admitted.

Jaskier came into the clearing then, buttoning his shirt.  
“There’s a lovely little stream down there. You should go and enjoy the water; take a bath, maybe”, he smiled at me.  
“She did last night”, the witcher smirked. I turned away – cheeks flush from a mix of rage and embarrassment.

\---

We continued east through the forest. My knee was aching, but there wasn’t a chance in Hel he’d get me to complain.

Dragging his horse, we walked in silence; the witchers eyes tracing my face, before falling to the ground.  
“What?”, I asked.  
“Nothing”, he answered.  
“You’re staring at me”, I said.

He smiled.  
“I was just wondering”, he said. “Back at the feast; your cousin told you I was a witcher. Did you not know what that is?”.  
I chuckled.  
“I knew. I know”.  
“Hmm”, he grunted. “You did not react as I would have expected. Most people – most women – either draw back in revulsion or spread their legs in in lust”.  
I frowned at him. He chuckled gruffly.  
“So you are repulsed by me”, he said.

“It’s not the mutant part that I’m repulsed by”, I said. “It’s the shitty personality that goes with it”.

He grunted again.  
“Well I’ve lived many years. The world has changed, but my personality never did. So, you best get used to it”.  
I smirked.  
“I’ll do my best. But I’m not spreading my legs”, I said, trying for haughty; but I didn’t dare look at his reaction.  
“You’ll do your best, until the next time you try to run away”, he snorted.

I laughed out loud, and kicked a stone into the brushes.  
“So, did Eist send you with me to protect me, or to make sure I don’t escape?”. This time I did look at him. He smiled.  
“Well, I am a very good tracker”.  
“I could slit your throat while you sleep, and then run”, I said.  
“I don’t sleep much”, he answered.  
“I noticed”, I mumbled.

The trees became further apart, leading us towards fields of grain. The smell of fresh baked bread filled the air.

“So, you know about witchers, my lady?”, Jaskier called out from behind us.  
“Yes”, I replied. “My nan… Thrude told me about many strange things”.

A carriage passed us from behind; and I jumped to the side, almost stumbling into the ditch. The witcher grabbed my waist, not letting me fall. His hands were gentle.  
“How is your knee?”, he asked.  
“Pained”, I finally admitted.

He effortlessly lifted me into the air, setting me down on Roach’s back. Jaskier mumbled something disgruntledly. The witchers hands lingered around my waist for a second, making sure I wouldn’t fall of.  
“Thanks”, I said quietly. He grunted in response.

“Thrude”, Jaskier continued. “She’s your hand matron”.  
“Not anymore, I suppose”, I said sadly.  
“But she knows things. Things that she’s shared with you?”.  
“Are you writing another song, bard?”, I laughed.  
“Always!”, he said, winking at me.

I held on to the mare’s mane, getting comfortable in the saddle.  
“Thrude trained as a vöelve”.  
“A witch”, the witcher said.  
“No”, I challenged. “A vöelve is not a witch. She is a seeress, a wise woman; with knowledge of plants and healing”.  
“And killing”, the witcher once again interrupted.

I chuckled at him.  
“Do you oppose to Skellige’s traditions?”, I said.  
“No”, he answered. “I oppose to letting humans dabble in things they should not stick their noses into. Magic isn’t for them”.

We were quiet again.

\---

In the afternoon we reached a small village, that seemed to have grown out of the fields. There was a blacksmith working at his anvil; and the witcher led us up to his small shop table.  
He lifted me of Roach, taking care to set me down gently. Our bodies were close enough for me to feel his chest against mine; and my breath hitched slightly.   
He stepped away quickly, as if burnt by a flame. His anger was dormant, but still there, it seemed. I sighed, and accepted Jaskiers hand to go sit on a bench by the blacksmiths small house.

“He’ll be over it soon”, the bard said, smiling at me.  
“I don’t care”, I answered.  
Jaskier looked at me, one eyebrow raised.  
“I can tell”.

The witcher went up to the blacksmith, a knife in his hands. It took me a second to recognize it as my own sgian-dubh. He must have taken it from my boot while fixing my wound.  
“Blacksmith, what can you do with this?”, the witcher asked the man; and handed him my knife.  
He turned it around in his hands.  
“Well, this is a rare one. Must have paid a pretty coin for it, master”, the man said, holding it into the air to let the sun fall on the engravings. “Some nice woodwork in the handle; and these patterns on the blade… Skellige?”.  
The Witcher grunted in response.  
“It’s not very useful now; blunt as it is”, the man continued. “I dare not heat it up; it might ruin the markings. But I can sharpen it for you; maybe oil the wood?”.

The witcher nodded.  
“My friends sister needs needle and a thread, for her torn dress; and a fresh bandage. We had a run in with a pack of wolves”.  
The blacksmith nodded with a friendly smile.  
“My wife will have both bandages and sewing gear. She’s in the house. I’ll work on your knife while you speak with her”.

The witcher came to stand by us; and Jaskier looked at him with beaming eyes.  
“You called me your friend”, he said.  
Another grunt.  
“Yes, and I also called her your sister”, he said and nodded at me; before knocking on the door of the house.

“Well; I take what I can get”, Jaskier smiled.

Having let the kind wife of the blacksmith sew a patch on my dress, and re-bandage my leg – she had resolutely refused to let me do it myself – we returned to her husband for my knife. The witcher paid the man; and we went to continue on our journey.

“Master witcher”, the blacksmith halted us. “The day is beginning to wane, and I’d hate to see you caught up by another pack of wolves. Rest here tonight. We haven’t much to offer in beds; but there’s a small barn out back; with clean straw to lay on”.

The witcher shook his head.  
“We wouldn’t want to impose on your hospitality. Just point us in the direction of an inn”.  
The man smiled – along with Jaskier.  
“Of course, sir. There will be one further in town. But do let us know if there is anything else, we can do for you”.  
The witcher answered with a smile himself; and led us on into town.

\---

The inn was crowded; but we’d managed to find a table to sit by. Jaskier was sending eyes at one of the barmaids; soon leaving us for her company.  
We sat in silence for a long time, eating the serving of mutton in front of us. I picked at the meat on my plate.

“Dinner not suiting the lady?”, the witcher smirked at me. “I am sorry this establishment doesn’t live up to your high standards”.

I sighed, and looked at him pointedly.  
“I saw a wyvern rip a lambs head clean off once. I’ve never been able to stomach eating sheep since”.  
His eyes fled mine.  
“I see”, he said. “Did it set fire to the corpse afterwards?”.  
“Wyverns don’t breathe fire”, I answered venomously. “Anything else you want to test me on?”.  
He grunted.

“… For 'tis naught, but bad luck  
To fuck with a puck  
Lest your grandkid be born  
A hairy young faun  
Bleating and braying all day, hey ho..”

Jaskiers voice and lute led the patrons into a jaunty tune; goading them all to sing along. The young barmaid was hanging on to his every word – making it very clear to the whole room that his breeches would be lying on the floor next to her bed that night.

“The fishmonger's daughter, ba ba  
The fishmonger's daughter, ba ba…”.

I drained my mug of beer, and sighed.  
“Where is my room?”, I asked. “I suppose you’ll be watching the door all night; keeping me safe?”.  
“No”, the whitehaired man answered simply. I silently cheered at the prospect of having some privacy for the first time in a few days.

He took my arm, leading me through the crowd of patrons surrounding Jaskier.  
“I expect you’ll be making your own sleeping arrangements”, he said to the bard in a break between songs.  
The barmaid sat herself down on Jaskiers lap, and began whispering into his ear, making his face blush.  
“Well, I…”, he said; smiled, and shrugged at us.  
“Right”, the witcher said, and dragged me along towards the stairs to the second floor.

Once outside a crooked door, he opened it, and pushed me inside, following at my heels. I looked at him confused.  
“What are you…”, I managed, before he grabbed my arm again, forcing me to sit down on the bed.

“Dress on or off?”, he said, voice tired. He began to take of his boots, and set his things down; his sword leaning against the chair by the bed.

My breath hitched. Taking of his jerkin; his black shirt rode up, to reveal his toned physique. I caught a glimpse of the dark hair splayed his chest, before the hem fell back down, covering his torso again.

I jolted myself – forcing myself to focus.  
“Are you mad?”, I asked and stood up. He looked at me bored.  
“On? Or off?”.  
“I told you…”, I said.  
“Don’t flatter yourself, little frog”, he said. “I’m too tired for any more discussions; now make up your mind, and get under the sheets”.

My cheeks reddened.  
“On… I mean off”, I said, meeting his indifferent eyes.

I began to untie the laces of my dress, but stopped once I realized his gaze wasn’t diverting. I frowned at him, and he rolled his eyes.  
“Fine”, he said, and turned around for me to undress.

Once I had shed my clothes, leaving me in just my chemise; I quickly crawled under the sheets, covering myself. He sat down on the bed, next to me.  
“Hand”, he said. I furrowed my brow, and reached out my hand to him. Grabbing it, he pulled a thin rope from his pocket, tying it around my wrist; and fastening it to the bedpost beside me.

“What in Hel, do you think you’re doing?”, I growled at him.   
He pulled the knot one last time, checking to see that I wouldn’t be able to get free; but also, that I wouldn’t be in pain.  
“I intend to have a full night’s rest; without having to worry that you’ll try to run again”.

“You absolute bastard!”, I sneered.  
“Yes”, he answered, and laid down next to me on the bed; making the old mattress dip, and my body slide towards his. I clung to the side of the bed with my free hand, trying to avoid touching him in any way.   
He jostled a pillow to lie between us. “Now sleep”.

I kept moving, trying to get comfortable with my hand tied up above my head.

“Why didn’t you accept the blacksmiths offer?”, I asked.  
He sighed.   
“They had nothing to share with us”, he said; his eyes closed, and his arms crossed over his chest. “And you probably wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping next to goats”.  
“You expect me to sleep next to you”, I hissed.  
He let out a small chuckle, opening his eyes; and looking out of the corner of them at me.  
“At least you have a soft bed and a warm breakfast waiting for you in the morning, just like you’re used to”.

I found it difficult to control my rage.  
“Why do you act as if I don’t know hardship? I’ve spent winters hungry when I visited Faroe and the South Islands!”, I scoffed.  
“You had a choice to stay or go home. They do not. That, woman, is privilege”.

I jolted slightly from his use of the word woman. It was the first time he’d recognized that was what I was; and he seemed to realize this himself. He looked up into the ceiling; then closed his eyes, and turned his back to me.

“Now shut up. You’ve already kept me awake for two days and nights. Let me have a few hours of rest”, he rumbled. “Before I have to deal with your shit again”.

Once again, I had no answer, and I simply laid there – angry, sad; and well aware that he was right – about everything.

\---

My sleep was restless. I woke several times to the sounds of grunts and moans from the rooms around us.   
I could swear one of the times I heard Jaskier giggling like a little boy; “Gertie… no… ooh! Well, when you put it like that…”.

The room smelled like cabbage, and it would have been dreadfully cold; had it not been for the witchers warm body resting so close to mine. He was breathing calmly; rhythmically. He turned over, facing me; eyes still closed, sleeping.

I watched him; holding my breath. Something was burning inside me; a feeling I knew perfectly well what was – but didn’t want to acknowledge.

His hand moved. It slid across the pillow between us; his fingertips lightly touching my arm for a second – sending a strange current through my body – before he gripped the grey slipcase, and scrunching it up in his hand. He furrowed his brow and exhaled deeply, seeming to have faced something very difficult in his dreams. I wanted to probe those dreams and see what he was seeing.

He suddenly cleared his throat; and I closed my eyes quickly, pretending to sleep.

“That’s a bad, bad bard…”, I heard from the next room over; followed by another giggle, what sounded like a cork popping, and then a yelp.

I kept my eyes closed, and tried to ignore the sounds. After a long time, sleep took me over.

\---

A loud banging jostled us awake.

“Geralt!”, Jaskier yelled. “Geralt, she was married! We need to leave!”.

The witcher groaned in irritation, and got out of the bed; making me sink into the mattress. I struggled to sit up, keeping the covers over my body.

The witcher opened the door, and Jaskier leapt inside to safety, pressing his back against it to hold it closed. He looked at my confused face.

“I swear, I didn’t know”, he whispered; before – with an apologetic smirk – adding; “… in truth, we didn’t do much talking”.

“You’re an idiot, Jaskier”, the witcher grumbled. “It was bound to catch up to you at some point”.

“You’re not going to help me?”, the bard whined.   
“No”, was the answer.

The sound of footsteps thundered up the stairs.  
“I’ll get the whoreson!”, someone roared, and began hammering on the doors to the rooms around us.

“Geralt!”, Jaskier almost screeched at the witcher.  
He made a guttural sound.  
“Fine”, he said. “Keep out of sight”. He removed his shirt, leaving him in his breeches. I gulped slightly from the sight.

Jaskier crawled under the bed in a very undignified way. I could almost feel the mattress shaking from him shivering in fear underneath it.

Someone banged on our door.  
“Open up! Let me have that son of a dog!”.

The witcher opened the door calmly; staring down the bucktoothed man standing outside.

“Which is it?”, the witcher asked. “Is he a whoreson, or a dog’s son? Or is he both? Maybe the whore is a dog”.  
The man looked at him angrily.  
“This is none of your concern, witcher. I just want the bastard who I saw sneaking out of my Gerties door this morn’”.

Jaskier let out a small squeak from under the bed. The man didn’t seem to have heard him.

The witcher sighed.  
“You come here and jostle me out of bed, and the warm arms of this lady…”, he gestured at me, making me blush, “… to claim that I am hiding some poor sod who happened to cuckold you”.  
The man seemed to consider his words. The witcher continued.  
“My state of undress – and that of my female companion here – should make it quite clear to you, that I have other things to do; than be a living sanctuary for some bard, who happened to know how to sweettalk his way in to your wife’s bed”.

The mans face was turning red.  
“The cur arrived here same time as you – you must know where he is!”.

The witchers eyes became dark, and he bared his teeth.  
“You should worry more about where your wife is. It seems that if you’d done that in the first place, none of us would be in this situation”. He grabbed the man’s collar; making him shake in fear. “Now, fuck off!”.

“Right!”, the man whimpered. “I’ll go… speak to Gertie. Maybe I was mistaken”.  
The witcher groaned menacingly, and let go of the man – making him scuttle down the stairs faster than any mouse running from a cat.

The witcher closed the door, and turned around to face us.

The sunlight seeping through the small window lit up his naked torso. My breath hitched at the sight.

His chest was broad and firm, covered in the dark hair I’d seen a glimpse of the night before. The hair travelled down his muscular stomach; into his breeches. The sight of his toned physique made me understand how he could be so strong. It looked like he spent every day picking up boulders, and throwing them around. I supposed those boulders were more likely monsters; but either way, the exercise kept him at what seemed to be peak physical condition.

It was then I noticed the scars; so many of them, spread across his body. I’d known they would be there – witcher as he was – but the sight of them surprised me.

His amber eyes met mine. I didn’t mean to smile; but it happened. Suddenly he looked uneasy.  
He grabbed his shirt, and quickly put it on.

Jaskier crawled out from under the bed.  
“Well that was something!”, he declared smilingly. He sat himself down on the bed, and looked from the witcher to me; to the rope still tying me to the bed. His face went white. “Did I… interrupt something?”, he asked.

“No”, the witcher answered, and put on his boots. “If you insist on continuing on with us as far as Tigg, get your things and be ready to leave as soon as you can. I’m not going to help you if you get caught up by another jilted husband”.

Jaskier nodded, and hurried out the door.

The witcher walked up to me, and threw my knife on the bed. I used it to cut myself free.  
He turned around to let me get out of the bed and put on my dress. I remembered to slip the knife down my boot again.

We went downstairs. The table we’d occupied the night before was set with oatmeal porridge and some sausages. I sat down, and began eating – my stomach rumbling from hunger. The witcher smirked at me.  
“Better than mutton?”, he asked.  
I nodded with a half-smile.

“Who let in that bleeding cat again?”, the barman who’d served us said.

A grey, one-eyed tomcat prowled across the floor towards a fly resting there. With a jump it tried to catch its prey; only to have it fly away at the last minute.  
The cat looked up at me and hissed.

“Watch out for that one, miss. It’s feral. Hasn’t left a man or woman unscathed if they got too near”.  
I got up, and crouched down by the cat. It hissed at me again, before putting it’s paw up; as if reaching for me.   
I smiled at it, and blinked, slowly. The cat blinked back, put its paw back to the ground; and pressed its forehead to my outreached hand. I scratched its ear.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”, I said; and grabbed a piece of sausage from my plate; putting it on the floor in front of the cat. It instantly gobbled down the meat.  
“Hello, kitty. I’m Zaba”, I smiled; feeling the witchers eyes on my back.  
I sat down on my chair again, and the now purring bundle of fur stroked itself against my legs. I chuckled, and gave it a scratch under its chin. It was skinny; I could feel every bone in its body.

“Never seen it do that”, the barman said in wonder.  
“Did you ever try feeding it?”, I said.  
“Then it wouldn’t be hungry enough to go for the mice”, he answered.  
“It might be more keen to help you with that, if you didn’t treat it like so badly”, I mumbled.

The witcher looked at me with narrowed eyes.

The barman took a piece of dried meat from a hook hanging over the fire; and threw it at the cat. It jumped at the treat; almost swallowing it whole. I smiled.

The witcher made to leave; and I followed his lead.  
He walked up to the barman, and slipped some coins into his hand.  
“For your hospitality”, he said. “Take good care of the cat”, he added; a gruff warning in his voice. The barman swallowed hard, and nodded. My heart jumped a little, and I smiled again.  
“Thank you, master”, the barman said.

We walked out the door; and went to the small stable to get Roach.

“Thank you”, I half whispered to the witchers back.  
He grunted in response, looking over his shoulder at me; eyes warm.

Jaskier met us by the edge of the village; having somehow procured for himself an ass, that was now carrying his lute and satchel.  
“Took you long enough”, he complained. “Let’s leave this wretched place”.

Walking away from the village, I looked over my shoulder and saw my new feline friend looking at us from out the window of the inn. Someone scratched its ear, and it jumped out of sight.

\---


	4. Chapter 4

4

Fall had begun to show itself in Cintra. Reds, yellows and orange colors spread across the trees. We continued through the landscape, which changed from fields and patches of forest; to marshland.

While Roach easily traipsed through the slop, Jaskiers ass was finding it difficult to keep its footing.

“Come on Gertie. Careful with my luggage!”, Jaskier said to it; for the third time having to drag the stubborn thing out of a muddy pool.  
I laughed.  
“You named the animal for the barmaid?”, I asked.  
“Well she did have a way with asses”, Jaskier smirked.

“That’s an image I’m not going to get rid of easily”, the witcher grumbled.

The slop finally releasing the animal’s hoof with a slimy pop, we could continue.

“I’d prefer we get out of this place as soon as possible”, the witcher said.  
“Foglets?”, I asked, his eyes meeting mine with surprise. I shrugged, and smiled.

“Grave hags, more likely”, he said, looking into the evening mist. “These are former battle grounds. There are still old bones to feed on”.

I shivered. My foot got stuck in a mudhole; and once again the witcher had to grab a hold of my leg to release me from the ground.  
“You knee?”, he said.  
“Better”, I answered. “The swelling is down after you let me ride a few hours”, I said; looking thankfully at the red mare he was leading.  
“Good”, he said. “Keep moving”. He sounded worried.

The ass was once again refusing to move; hooves quickly sinking into the soft ground.   
“Move, you stupid wretch!”, Jaskier hollered.

The witcher turned his head south, quickly as a wolf having caught scent of a prey.  
“Get out of here!”, he growled.  
I felt a shiver down my spine.

Jaskier kept tugging at the poor ass. I ran to join him; taking a hold of one of the legs caught in the mud.  
“Come on now, Gertie. Move!”, I said, my voice shaking. The ass brayed and shook its head. “Come on!”, I yelled, and pushed against its shoulder.  
I heard snarling and groaning in the distance. The witcher turned to look at us.

“Run!”

He smacked Roach’s behind, and the horse took of north. I stepped towards the witcher; but Jaskier grabbed my arm.  
“Remember last time, my lady”, he said breathlessly.

I sent a final look towards the witcher; my heart almost breaking from fear that he might get hurt if he was alone.  
He looked into my eyes, narrowing his lips; and nodded. Go. I’ll be fine, he seemed to be saying.  
I nodded back at him; and went with Jaskier to run after Roach.

Behind me I heard snarling and thuds. Metal meeting bone. Roars from the witcher, and shrieking from an unidentified entity.

My heart was in my throat, and I had a metallic taste in my mouth. We kept running; my knee beginning to burn with pain.   
Reaching what seemed to be the edge of the marsh, we found Roach waiting for us, stomping at the ground. I grabbed her reins; and put a calming hand against her neck.  
“Sshh, girl”, I panted. “They can’t get you”. I put my arms around her throat, breathing in her musky scent. “He’ll be fine”, I whispered, unsure whether I was trying to convince the horse or myself.

Jaskier leant against a tree, and slid down to sit with his back to it.  
“I can’t believe it”, he said; tears welling up in his eyes. “Lost. It’s all lost”.

I turned to face him.  
“Shut up!”, I raged. “He’ll be fine! He has to be!”.

Jaskier looked at me dumbfounded.  
“Of course he will. I’m talking about my lute and my clothes!”.  
I shook my head in disbelief.

I heard groaning behind me; and felt another chill down my back. I knelt slightly, and slid my knife out of my boot; quickly turning to face the creature sneaking up on us – ready to attack.

The witcher was covered in mud, and greyish goo. He smelt like rot and pigs’ shit.  
I made an audible gasp in relief. And then another gasp from the smell.

“Foglets”, he said, and looked at me. I stifled a smile.

He stepped up to Jaskier, and dropped his lute and satchel on the ground in front of him.  
“Your ass is dead”, he grumbled.  
“Poor Gertie”, Jaskier whispered; and then began examining the lute for damage.

The witcher looked at me again.  
“Make a fire. I’ll go wash up”. He left me and the bard; walking towards what sounded like a trickling stream. Passing Roach, he patted her shoulder lovingly.

I began my task with the fire.

“That’s new”, Jaskier said.  
“What?”, I asked, building the logs how Eist had taught me when I was a child – so that when the bottom logs would burn out, the top ones would light from the embers of them.  
“Washing up”, he smirked. “Next it’ll be perfume and girdles. Anything to keep the lady happy”.

I threw a stick at him, hitting his leg.  
“Hey!”, he yelped. “Just stating facts. He doesn’t clean up for me”.  
“Well, you wear enough perfume for the both of you”, I jeered, meeting his earnest eyes.  
He raised his eyebrows at me, smiling crookedly.

I looked down, blushing.

\---

A while later the witcher joined us at the fire. I’d found a patch of mushrooms, and was just finishing stewing them for supper.

“I thought you didn’t cook”, his voice jolted me.  
He was cleaner, though still wore his muddied clothes.  
“Well, I was hungry”, I answered, and handed him a bowl. Once again, we ate in silence.

After having finished his bowl, Jaskier nodded off against his tree; small snoring sounds coming from him, letting us know that it would be a while before he’d wake again.

The witcher unstrapped his sword from his back; and groaned in pain at the motion. I saw a red patch of blood on the back of his shoulder.

“You’re bleeding!”, I said, walking up to him to look at the wound. I put my hand on his arm; but he tried to shrug it off.  
“It’s fine. I heal quickly”.  
I raised my eyebrows at him.  
“I’m sure you do, but it can’t hurt to let me look”.  
He grunted, and went to sit by the fire.

I grabbed my satchel, and rummaged through it. I found cinnamon and neem, silently cursing myself that I hadn’t kept an eye out for chamomile during travelling. There were extra bandages from the blacksmith’s wife – Bless her heart! – and a needle and thread.

I turned towards the witcher, seeing that he had removed his jerkin and shirt. Sitting there in the moonlight, he didn’t seem to shiver from the cold. The fire lit up his figure; once again letting me see the perfect shape of his body; and the many scars strewn across it.

I knelt by his side; and trying not to touch anywhere but the wound – as to not make myself lose focus – I began to wash it with a cloth.  
“Ask”, he said.  
“About what?”, I wondered.  
“The scars. You want to”, he grumbled.  
I shook my head and chuckled.  
“You’re a witcher. You have scars. It’s natural”.  
“There’s nothing natural about it”, he said. He sounded almost angry.

“I’m sorry”, I said.  
“Why?”, he asked.  
“Because I’ve let you think that I… that I believe it’s my business. That I’d think of you as an object for display”.

He turned his head to look at me, as I began crumbling the cinnamon between my fingers.  
“You think of me?”, he smirked.  
“Shut up”, I chuckled, blushing.

We were silent for a while. I made a paste of water; neem leaves; and the crushed cinnamon.

He looked into the fire, thinking.  
“Is that why you don’t want to get married?”, he asked. “Because you don’t want to be a display figure?”.  
I bit my lip, considering his question.  
“Among other things”, I answered. “I don’t want to marry a man twice my age”.  
“Not to mention; a sweaty sister fucker”, he chuckled. “He is sweaty, you know. I’ve met him”.  
I swallowed bile.  
“Thanks for that”, I said sarcastically.  
“You’re welcome”, he said. We both laughed quietly.

He met my eyes again.  
“But you also want your freedom”.  
I nodded.  
“I want to be me – not because of or in spite of – someone else”. I poured some water over his gash again, making him hiss. “I’m sorry”, I said.  
“It’s fine”, he answered. “So, you want to be alone”.

“No”, I answered. “I want to love someone, without being expected to just be a part of who they are; or have it expected that they are a part of who I am. Two people can love one another, without losing themselves. A relationship isn’t supposed to be an entity, but a partnership. Isn’t it?... It doesn’t need stitches”.  
“What?”.  
“Your wound. It doesn’t need stitches”, I said. “I want to own myself, not be owned; and have everything that I am and have , be someone else’s. I want something that is mine”.

The witcher looked at me, expression unreadable.  
I sighed. “I talk too much, I know”.

“Talking too much is fine, as long as you’re not talking nonsense”, he said. Jaskier gave a snort in his sleep. “Like some people I know…”.  
I smirked.  
“He’s your friend. You must like him a little bit”, I said. He grunted with a smirk in response.

I began treating his wound with the paste. He sniffed the air.  
“No chamomile?”, he asked. I laughed a little.  
“I guess Thrude forgot to pack it”. I put a piece of clean cloth against the wound; and began wrapping it. He lifted his arm, to let me go around it with the bandage. He flexed his bicep for a second; flinching at my touch; but didn’t pull away.

Once I’d finished, he put his shirt back on.  
“I taught her that recipe”, he said.  
I’d been washing my hands; but was halted in my process of drying them off.  
“You what?”, I asked.  
“Your nanny, Thrude”, he said. “I taught it to her”.  
“When?”, I smiled in disbelief.

He smiled, and moved his shoulder in circles, testing it.  
“When she was just beginning her training. She can’t have been more than 16”.  
“How is that possible?”, I breathed.

“I’m older than I look”, he answered.

I sat back down by the fire with him.  
“You knew Tootie when she was a girl?”, I asked, forgetting myself, and using my nickname for her.

He chuckled.  
“I’d killed an arachas; but it stung me before it died”. He lifted his shirt a little, showing me a jagged scar on his abdomen. “I went to seek help from a… wise woman…”, he said, looking at me, one eyebrow raised. “She was gone to see to a childbirth; but her young trainee, was still at the cabin”.  
“The one near Rogne”, I smiled; remembering my days there.

He looked at me, and nodded.  
“I was beginning to lose feeling in my arms, and couldn’t mix the ingredients myself. So, I told her how to do it”.   
He looked down at my chest; where my necklace was displayed. “She was wearing a necklace with a silver pendant the shape of a small frog. She told me about recieving it on her wedding night the year before. Apparently her husband had died soon after; so, she’d begun training as a vöelve”.   
I knew about Thrudes husband. She’d loved him, and couldn’t see herself with anyone else. The witcher continued.  
“I told her that if she ever needed my help; to send a letter to my friend, Marilka, in Blaaviken; signing it as Frog”.

I looked at him in disbelief; dumbfounded.  
“Is that why you’re travelling with me?”, I asked. “Did she ask you to force me to marry Foltest?”. He saw my heart breaking in front of him.  
“No!”, he said, and grabbed my hand. “Y/N… she asked me to protect you; regardless of that”.

I looked at him hopefully.  
“So… You could let me go. Take me somewhere else!”, I said. “I could avoid this union all together!”.  
He let go of my hand.  
“No”, he said. “I’m sorry. I also made a promise to Eist. I have to honor it”.

I shook my head, stifling a laugh.  
“Everyone makes plans for me. For once I’d like to just have one thing that is mine by choice”.

I stood up, and walked towards the stream the witcher had used to wash up in.  
“Princess…”, he called after me.  
“I’m not a princess!”, I roared at him; making Jaskier jostle in his sleep.

I sighed.  
“I need to be alone. You’ll probably be able to find me, even if I do try to run away; so, don’t worry”, I said.  
He stood up to follow me.  
“Don’t!”, I said. “Just please, let me be alone”.

I walked into the woods, not looking back.

\---

I walked along the stream aimlessly. The cold night air was biting at my cheeks, but I didn’t care. I breathed deeply; deliberately trying to make myself cry; to rid myself of the sadness and rage brewing inside me, like a painful ball of ice and fire.  
I wanted to scream; but couldn’t let out a sound.

Finally, I sank to my knees by the stream, meeting my own face reflected back at me; lit up by the moon.  
My fingers touched the surface of the water, making my mirror image distort.

I can’t run away. I can’t take control of my own life. I can’t do anything that I want to; because I’m someone else’s to do with as they wish. There is nothing that is mine. Least of all myself.

I stood up, and began running. I knew the witcher could find me; but I didn’t care. I just needed to react – to move… somewhere.

Following the stream, I continued running. The birds in the trees around me jolted awake from their sleep; and fled – the sound of rustling leaves mixing with the sound of my panting breath.  
The trees began to mix with rocks and cliffsides. I almost tripped over some rubble; but managed to keep myself upright.

Suddenly I found myself by a ledge; the drop bellow me at least a hundred feet.  
I sat down, my legs dangling from the edge.

I couldn’t run any further. I was at the end of the road.

If I want to have something of my own, I have to take it.

I stood up, and was about to turn myself around, when the ledge began to give. The stone cracked under my foot; and I fell.

\---

I fell for what felt like an eternity. It was as if time had stopped, and I couldn’t scream.

Suddenly, something incredibly strong wrapped itself around my wrist; holding on to me, as I dangled over the abyss.  
I looked up, and saw the witchers face – his eyes fiery.  
He pulled me up with a single thrust of his arm; grabbing my waist in midair, and placing me on stable ground.

He grabbed me by the back of my neck; and let all his rage come at me.  
“Killing yourself? That’s your solution?”, he roared loudly. “You… idiotic woman! I should have let you drop to your death!”.

Tears welled into my eyes. The witchers face softened slightly; and he loosened his grip on my neck, moving his hands to either side of my face, stroking my cheeks.

“Don’t…”, he said. “I didn’t mean…”.  
“I wasn’t jumping!”, I yelled at him. “I slipped!”. I hit him in his chest; hardly wounding him; but harshly enough to get him to step back from me. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“I want to own my life, not end it!”, I said.

He gazed at me hesitantly.  
“I misjudged the situation. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d…”. He halted himself. “I don’t know what to say, my lady”.

I looked at his pleading, burning eyes.

I have to take it.

I walked up to him, put my hands around the back of his neck; and kissed him.  
My lips melded with his, and I grabbed his bottom lip with own.

He pulled back; his eyes searching mine. Then; his face became resolute; he wrapped his arms around me – and our lips met again.

Opening my lips, his tongue slid into my mouth; meeting my own.  
His hand moved to the back of my head, and he held on to me so close, that I thought we’d meld together. His soft tongue was gentle; but his hold on me was brutal, verging on animalistic.

I gave a soft moan into his mouth; and he pulled back again; examining the topography of my face.  
“Y/N”, he breathed, and began to pull away. “We have to…”.

I nodded; and we let go of each other.

We walked back to the camp without speaking or touching each other. There was nothing to say, after all. Our brief encounter didn’t change anything.

Once we were back by the fire; he looked at me with cold eyes.  
“You should sleep. We have to move on at dawn”.  
“Yes, I know”, I said. “Witch… Geralt. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”.  
“Forget it. It never happened”, he said, eyes on the ground.  
I nodded, and went to lie down by the fire; my back turned to it.

I heard him begin to run a whetstone over his sword, and silently cried myself to sleep.

\---

The next morning, we were quiet and avoiding each other. Geralt seemed to go out of his way to take the long path around me, when he went to saddle up Roach.   
I had a dull, grey pain in my stomach; making me unable to accept the chunck of bread Jaskier offered me for breakfast.

He sighed.  
“All right. Who insulted who this time?”, he said teasingly. “My lady, did you call Geralt an overrated sell-sword again?”.  
“Shut up, Jaskier”, the witcher growled.  
Jaskier retreated.  
“And I’m the sensitive one…”, he mumbled, and went back to nursing his blistered feet.

I went up to him, and handed him a garlic bulb.  
“Rub this on the soreness. It should help”.  
Jaskier looked skeptically at me.  
“Garlic?”, he asked. “Won’t it just make my feet smell?”.  
“Can’t get much worse”, I shrugged.

“Thyme would be better”, the witcher grumbled from behind me. I clenched my jaw.  
“I don’t have any thyme”, I said; and went to pack up my own belongings.   
“Use the garlic”, Geralt mumbled to Jaskier. The bard rubbed the bulb against his foot, and put on his socks and boots.

The witcher took my satchel from my hands, and fastened it to Roach’s saddle.   
“Time to move, little frog”, he said. Little Frog again. Nothing’s changed, I sighed to myself – unsure whether I was relieved; or sad.

We began walking again; moving northeast. Our next destination; Tigg.

\---


	5. Chapter 5

5

We spent the following days moving through interchanging woodland and fields. There wasn’t much interaction between us, except for the occasional necessary one. Food. Someone needing to tinkle – Jaskier. Resting. A pack of wild dogs; quickly disposed of, by the witcher. Someone needing to tinkle – again…

The silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable; but after three days and nights; it was becoming deafening.  
Jaskier finally broke it, by beginning to strum his lute.  
“… The curs’ eyes, they shone red; we were surely dead… No…”, he tried. “The frightened princess cried; Witcher! Don’t let me die!...”.

“How about: The sixth time the bard had to piss, the angry witcher hissed?”, I sneered.  
Geralt snorted, trying to stifle laughter.

Jaskier frowned.  
“You should probably let a professional handle the songwriting”.  
“Let us know when we meet one”, the witcher grumbled. The bard scoffed, offended.  
“Sometimes I wonder why I let you travel with me”, he said, and went to walk a few paces in front of us.

We walked in silence for a little while longer; a spattering of cottages in the distance.  
“Jaskier said you called me an overrated sell-sword? When?”, Geralt asked.  
“While you were paying the fisherman for our passage from Skellige”, I admitted. “You were being an ass”.  
“Well, you were being a brat”, he smirked.  
“Yes…”, I said. I looked at him. “I didn’t think you cared what I thought of you”.  
He simply grunted.  
“You’ve spent three days thinking about that?”, I smirked.  
“I have my professional pride”, he mumbled.

“Apparently only one of us is allowed to have that”, Jaskier called from in front of us, still sulking.  
I felt bad for him.  
“I’m sorry for making fun of your song”, I said. “You’re a talented bard, Jaskier”.  
He looked back over his shoulder at me, one brow lifted.  
“Talented enough for a wedding feast?”, he said.  
I looked down.  
“If it’s mine, I’d prefer silence”, I mumbled. “Silence, and alcohol”.

Geralt traced my face, and frowned slightly, before looking forward again.  
“We’ll be in Tigg by tomorrow evening”, he said; and would no longer meet my eyes.

\---

Tigg was a colorful, small stronghold; that overlooked a village and some brightly painted military barracks. As the witcher had said, we were at its gates just as the sun was setting over the fields.

Opening the gates, were two clearly intoxicated soldiers; one of which had a giggling woman – in a scandalous level of undress – waiting for him in his shelter behind the wall.  
Sounds of laughing and clinking glasses came from the main hall in the middle of the courtyard.

“Ah, Tigg!”, Jaskier said. “Hurry, we’re already late for the party”.  
“What party?”, I asked.  
“It’s the Baron Coodcoodlaks birthday week!”, he answered with a bright smile.

Leaving Roach in the stables; we went to join the festivities.  
The doors opened to a brightly lit room decorated in Cintran colors. All around us, men and women were cheering and laughing; and the air smelled of fried meat and ale.

“The entertainment has arrived!”, a thin and whiskered man; standing on top of the main table, yelled. He jumped to the floor, and walked towards us.  
“You…”, he said – pointing at Jaskier, “… are late!”.  
Jaskier bowed deeply.  
“My deepest regrets, baron. I’ve been caught up in monster-hunting, and protecting fair maidens from wild dogs”. He grinned at the colorfully dressed man.

The baron turned to look at the witcher and me. I realized then, that I’d met him before. His eyes returned my recognition.  
“My lady Y/N!”.  
“Baron Eylembert”, I smiled, as he grabbed my hand to kiss.

The baron was known for his animal sound impersonations, and his love of women and drink – giving him the nickname of Coodcoodlak.

He pulled me to the middle of the floor.  
“Laddies and gentlepeople! This is the fair lady Y/N – future queen of Temeria”. All eyes in the room turned towards me; and I felt instantly uncomfortable.

Next to me; Geralt tensed up – examining the room. His gaze lingered on a group of men sitting at a table in a corner. They looked grim; dressed in black, and carrying swords at their hips. The ladies at the table seemed unable to attract their attentions; not for want of trying.

The baron dragged me along to sit at his table, and poured me a goblet of something that smelled familiar.  
“Skellige mead”, he smiled at me. “A little taste of home”. I twitched at his use of the word home. We saluted each other with our goblets, and drank.  
“I have not seen you since… was it at the Capital? The princess Pavetta’s 10’th birthday!”, he said. “You, my dear, have not changed a day. Maybe a bit more… inspiring to the… carnal senses”, he winked and leered at me.  
I heard Geralt make a sound like a growl from next to me. His tense disposition had not relaxed one bit. He seemed in attack mode, and ready to draw his sword at any moment. He must feel a desperate duty to keep me pure for my husband, I thought.

I cleared my throat.  
“Yes, it was the princess’ 10’th celebration”. My one and only – other – visit to the continent. The baron licked his lips, and smirked at me. “How is your wife?”, I asked, and took another sip of my goblet. He groaned.  
“Still sickly, I’m afraid. She spends most of her time in the Capital, tending to her fragile nerves”.  
“And yet, you’re still here at Tigg”, I said.  
“Yes, well… the queen needs me to keep this stronghold. And I must tend to my duties”, he answered. “Music!”, he called to Jaskier, who instantly began a lively tune.

The men from the table in the corner began capitulating to their lady friends’ advances. The witcher seemed to relax in his seat. He took a piece of meat from the tray in front of him. The baron looked at him.

“You’re Geralt of Rivia. The Butcher of Blaaviken”. The witcher flinched at the nickname. He grunted in response.  
“I am”.  
“I don’t remember inviting you to this feast; but you are very welcome none the less. You must have some intriguing stories to tell!”, the baron said, and looked at him with beaming eyes. Geralt chuckled.  
“That’s what I have him for”, he nodded in Jaskiers direction.

The bard had apparently finished “my” song.  
“Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me  
And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee.  
Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea  
And I shall be ever a servant of thee…”, he sang, goading the crowd on to join him in the chorus.  
“The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles – everyone! –  
The foulmouthed princess,  
the foulmouthed princess,  
the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige isles!”  
My cheeks flushed red. Geralt stifled a smile next to me.  
“It’s not funny”, I sneered.  
“Yes, it is”, he said.  
“Well, fuck you very much”, I grumbled.

“The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige isles!”, Jaskier finished to a roar of applause; turned to look at me, and bowed, with a wink.

The baron applauded along with his guests; and threw a handful of silver coins on the floor in front of Jaskier; who gathered them up with a deep bow at the man.  
“Well…”, the baron said, “… I am very happy that you showed up to this celebration”. He placed a hand on my thigh; squeezing it. Geralt tensed up again. “And, the night isn’t over yet. There is so much more fun to be had”. He wiggled his brow suggestively.

I swallowed hard. “Baron, I…”.  
“Come now, my lady”, he interrupted. “I can’t let Foltest have all the fun. Think of the stories we’ll both have to tell! The queen of Temeria; cockadoodled by Coodcoodlak!”. He let out a rooster’s crow; and the room joined him in the sound.

I grabbed his wrist, and pried his hand away from my leg.  
“Though your offer is very generous; I’ve had a rather trying few days, and desperately need some rest”.  
The baron sighed.  
“Yes, yes. I’ll have my man prepare a room for you. Witcher; I’m guessing you’ll be fine sleeping by the stables”.  
Geralt grunted.  
“No!”, I said. “The witcher is my bodyguard; and has orders not to leave my side”. I wasn’t certain that the famous Rooster of Tigg wouldn’t try to sneak his way into my bed as I slept. And I’d grown used to have Geralt near me.

The baron looked at me; and then at Geralt – lifting an eyebrow.  
“I see…”, he smirked. “I’ll have them set up a cot by the door. You can stay for the fireworks later this week!”.

“No need. We leave in the morning”, the witcher said gruffly, and stood up to leave.  
“But this is just the first night of the celebration!”, the baron proclaimed with a pitched voice.  
“Foltest is eager to meet his future wife”, Geralt answered; and pulled back my chair for me to stand.  
“Fine”, the Baron grunted. “Send the sweaty bastard my well wishes. I’ll probably be to hung over in the morning to see you off”.  
He stood up, and took my hand; kissing it.  
“I wish you good health and many sons, my lady! Gods know, that feeble minded daughter of his should be kept well away from the throne”.

I nodded politely, and we left the room in haste – Geralts hand ghosting my lower back.

“Three cheers for lady Y/N; the queen of Temeria!”, I heard from behind us. “Hip, hip, hooray!...”.

\---

The room was warm and dimly lit. There was a smoldering fireplace, and a pitcher of ale had been left on the table. Behind a lavishly embroidered divider, a tub of hot water was waiting for me to have a bath.

The witcher closed the door, and bolted it.  
“We need to be more careful”, he grumbled. “We’ve made to much of a display of who you are already”.  
I didn’t answer.  
“I won’t let him come in here”, Geralt said.  
“I know”, I answered. “Wouldn’t want him touching the king’s package”.

The witcher groaned something I couldn’t make out.  
“… not it”.  
“What?”, I asked.  
He sighed.  
“You can take a bath. I’ll rebuild the fire”. I frowned at him.

Once behind the divider, I removed my dress and my chemise; leaving me naked, save for the bandage on my knee. I untied it gingerly, revealing the wound to have almost healed into a thin red scar. The witchers treatment had worked.

I stepped into the tub; lowering my body into the water; gasping loudly from the heat.

“Are you all right?”, Geralt asked from behind the divider.  
“Yes”, I answered. “It’s just hot”.  
He grumbled something again.

“If you’re going to talk to me, at least do it audibly, so I can respond in kind”, I said.  
“So now you want to talk”, he retorted.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I heard him remove the straps holding his sword to his back, and putting it aside.  
“You’ve spent most of the last three days avoiding conversation”, he said.  
“You’re not the most talkative person yourself”, I answered with a sneer.  
“I’m not around people much. Not used to conversation”.  
“Is that why you talk to your horse? To train for actual human interaction?”, I jeered.

“I’m not a human”, he answered gruffly.  
I heard two more bumps, from what I guessed was his boots hitting the floor.  
“You look human”, I said.  
“I do?”, he asked, with what I could hear was a smirk.

“Mostly”, I answered.

We were quiet for a while. I began to wash myself with the sponge provided; sitting up, so my torso was uncovered by the water. The warmth from the fire didn’t stop a chill from grazing my breasts, after I poured a pitcher of water over myself; and my nipples perked in response.

“So, let’s have a conversation, witcher”, I said; unable to take the quiet anymore.  
“What do you want to talk about?”. I heard him poke at the fire.  
“Well”, I said. “You seem to know most there is to know about me. Or at least what you tell yourself I am. Tell me about you”.  
“There isn’t much to tell”, he answered.  
I squeezed the sponge over my arm, letting the water run down it.  
“That’s a crock of shit”, I said; and heard him chuckle. “You’ve lived longer than any man I’ve met before. You must have a past”.  
He didn’t answer. I sighed.

“Witchers are made in Kaer Morhen; aren’t they?”, I asked.  
“We were”, he answered. “It was raided. No more witchers can be made”.  
I washed my other arm.  
“You sound pleased about that”, I said.  
I heard him sigh.  
“It was my home, so no; I’m not pleased. But the trials I had to go through there were… I wouldn’t wish them on anyone”.  
We were quiet for a little while.

“Are you originally from Rivia?”, I asked, focusing on washing my feet now.  
I heard him chuckle again.  
“My master, Vesemir, encouraged me to make myself a new name. And a surname. He said it would make me seem more trustworthy”.  
“So, no”, I said.  
“No”, he answered. “I don’t remember much from before my trials. Let alone where I was born”.

I stood up in the bath, my body chilled instantly; and goosebumps began to form on my skin.  
“You have no roots; no homeland. I suppose we are not so different”.  
“What do you mean?”, he asked.

I wrapped myself in a towel, and put on a robe that had been left for me on the chair by the tub.  
“I have no homeland either”, I said. “Not anymore”.

I stepped out from behind the divider; and looked at him. His eyes were lit by the fire, and his features soft and earnest. He looked almost kind.

“But you do”, he said. “You just choose not to accept the one offered”.  
“It’s not offered”, I grumbled. “It’s forced upon me. By my cousin. By my fiancée”, I sneered. “And by you”.

He shook his head.  
“I cannot force you to say yes to Foltest. I can only bring you to him”.

I looked at the floor, and sat by the fire to brush my hair.

“The water is still warm”, I said. “If you want a bath”.  
He grunted and nodded; and went behind the divider to undress.

I heard him step into the water.  
“Shit”, he said.  
“What?”.  
“I forgot a towel”, he grumbled. “Could you?...”.

I turned around, and noticed that the light from the candles by the bath, lit up the fabric of the divider, making me able to see his naked form through it. His back was turned to me; but I could see his bottom – firm like the rest of him. His tall, muscular frame sent jolts of heat through my body.

I suddenly realized, that he had been able to see the shadow of my figure all along, as well.

I shook myself to refocus.  
“You should probably… sit”, I said.  
I saw him sit down; and walked around the divider; remembering to take the towel he needed with me. I placed it on the chair.

His hand grabbed my wrist.  
“What happened that night…”. Our eyes met tentatively.  
“It shouldn’t have”, I said. “I’m sorry for doing that”.  
He nodded.  
“Of course you are”, he said, almost angrily – and let go of my wrist.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, I asked.

“You’re ashamed. Can’t be the queen of Temeria, and slum it with a witcher”, he growled.  
“I don’t want to be queen”, I sneered.  
“And you don’t want me either”, he retorted.

“Yes, I do; you idiot!”, I yelled. “But you didn’t want me!”. I threw the bar of soap into the water; and it hit the surface with a big splash.

He stood up – in all his glory – and stared me square in the face. My breath hitched as I continued.  
“For all your improved eyesight, witcher…”, I said, “… you are blind!”.

His eyes narrowed. He bared his teeth and growled; before he put his hands around the back of my neck; pulling me into him – and making our lips meet in a heated kiss.

I slid my arms around his neck, and his hands travelled down my back; holding on to me as fervently as he had those few nights ago.  
At first our kiss was rough – almost violent – but then it evolved into a softer and warmer interaction of our lips and tongues; embracing and melding together. His hands that had held me in place, began to rub my back soothingly.

I was sliding against his slick, wet chest; finding it difficult to keep my footing, due to the edge of the tub meeting my thigs and separating us.

I pulled back from him; and looked deep into his eyes.  
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life with a man I did not choose”, I said. “Let me at least have one night with one that I did”.  
His face went from angry to soft and gentle; and he stroked my cheek with his thumb.  
“As you wish, little frog”, he smiled; and met my lips again.

He slid his hands down my thighs, and lifted me up, for me to straddle his waist. I removed the robe; leaving me in the towel.  
He sat us down – me on his lap – in the tub; and continued the gentle movement of his lips. There was still a ferocity to his kiss – raw and primal – and my body responded by shivering in pleasure.  
His length was growing hard against me; and I looked down for the first time, taking in the masterwork it was; through the surface of the water. My breath hitched again; and he smirked at me.  
“Everything looks bigger in water”, he chuckled; and my cheeks reddened. I bit my lip.

Leaning back in the tub, separating our torsos; his fingers ghosted my cheek, moving down over my neck, before he ran his thumb across my collarbone. He continued his journey further down, lightly touching the silver chain around my neck; and stopping at the top of the towel I was still wearing – now soaking wet.

“May I?”, he asked.  
“And if I say no?”, I smirked.  
He chuckled, and opened the towel, revealing my breasts to him; the pendant resting between them.  
“Little frog”, he said.  
“Big bad wolf”, I jeered.  
He raised his eyebrows at me.  
“That’s a different fairytale”, he smiled; leant in, and kissed the spot of skin on the middle of my collarbone.

His hands ghosted over my breasts for a second, before cupping them in his hands, and running his thumbs over my tender nipples. I gasped and leant back, resting against his bended legs.  
I felt his cock twitch between my legs; and it instantly sent a jolt through my body.  
“Mmhmm”, it came as guttural growl from him; and his lips met the tender skin under my ear.

I slid my hands up his firm chest – relishing in the feeling of the soft hair against my palms – and moved them over his shoulder, gently running my nails down his back. He moaned at the sensation, and I smiled at the effect I had on him. It made me feel stronger than I ever had before.  
He pinched my nipples hard in response – just for a second – and I cried out from the sweet pain.

He chuckled against my neck, and nibbled at my earlobe.  
“Can I touch you?”, he breathed. I turned to look at his face, and nodded.  
He blinked at me slowly – just like I had at the cat from days ago – and slid his hand down between my breasts, under the water; and all the way down to my curls. I clenched my jaw in anticipation, and closed my eyes.

At first, it was just his finger, tracing the outlines of my labia. I heard him moan, and opened my eyes to see that his were closed. He was smiling.  
“I’d say you were all wet, but that would be too obvious”, he laughed, and looked at me again.  
My own laugh was halted by the sudden feeling of his finger sliding inside me; crooking itself against my front wall.

“Geralt…”, I gasped.  
“Yes?”, he smirked, and slid his other hand down; letting his fingers find my nub and gently rub it.  
“I… you…”, I said.  
“What, hm? What are you trying to say?”, he interrupted.  
“… teasing…”, I laughingly panted.  
“Yes, I am”, he said, jest in his voice.  
I moaned loudly, and threw my arms around his neck; riding his hands. His fully erect member pressed against my stomach; and his fingers continued their assault on my tender core.

I moved my hand in front of me and grabbed it, slowly beginning to pump him – making him moan in response; and press his forehead to my shoulder. We moved together for a while; pleasuring each other; the sound of the water splashing against the sides of the tub rhythmically.

A familiar tingling warmth began to radiate from my vagina.  
“Geralt, you’re making me… ah!”, I breathed.  
“Not yet!”, he said; removed his fingers from me, and pried my hand from his penis. “I want to look at you first. Stand up”, he demanded.

My legs shaking; I stood up in front of him, my feet between his spread legs – careful not to step on or kick that most valued thing on his body, that I wanted nothing more than to have inside me.  
I stood there – shivering from the wetness of my skin, and the still unfulfilled desire burning in me.  
He looked me up and down with hazy eyes.  
“A sight”, he smiled. I flushed red.

He leant forward, looking me in the eyes; and grabbed a hold of my butt-cheeks; pulling me towards his face. His eyes were feral; and he put his lips to my sensitive folds; kissing my nub gently.  
His tongue searched my lips for my entrance; and his hands left my cheeks for a second, to make me spread my legs a little, giving him better access.

Hands back where they’d been; he then licked me from my entrance to my clit, giving it a nibble with his lips. He was careful to avoid using his teeth; making the feeling soft and gentle; in contrast to his harsh hold on my behind – one that was sure to leave marks.

He moaned, and flicked his tongue over the little bundle of nerves between my legs. The warm feeling from inside began spreading again, and my legs began shaking. I grabbed a hold of the back of his head; which seemed to give him the impression that I wanted him to continue – which I did. The problem was that I could hardly stand on my feet anymore, from the loss of control I was feeling over my body.

“G-going to fall”, I stammered; and he finally pulled back.  
“That much?”, he wondered. I bit my lips, and nodded.  
“Hhmm”, he groaned, and let go of my cheeks. “Bed”, he concluded, and stood up.

My mouth was agape from the full sight of him again. Muscled toned torso, thighs like logs, and arms strong enough to wrestle a werewolf.  
The scars on his body didn’t take away from the beauty of his figure – if anything, they enhanced the sight of him; making him look like… well, what he was. A brutal, dangerous man – witcher – who could snap me in half, should he wish to.  
At the same time, his earnest face, and his lust-blown eyes; and the warmth I knew lived in his heart somewhere; made me trust this man with my life, my body – and, by Gods, my heart!

I looked down, my eyes resting on his length and – fuck! – girth. I knew I could take him. At least I knew I wanted to, with every inch of my being.  
Catching on to what I was thinking, he chuckled, seeming almost embarrassed.  
“If you want to sketch a picture of it, let me know later; but right now, I’d like to get you to bed”. I chuckled in response.

Witch a sudden movement, I was in his arms again, straddling his waist. He held on to me with one hand; strong enough to carry me like that. His other hand slid my hair behind my ear, so he could kiss my cheek.  
His hardness was standing at attention; sliding against my folds as I hung there, almost entering me in the process. I giggled at the feeling.  
“Amused, are we?”, he chided. I jerked my hips, rubbing myself against his tip; and he growled in response.  
“Impatient little frog”, he said gruffly.

He stepped out of the tub; and walked us to the bed, depositing me on it.  
Standing over me as I lay there – arms down my sides, knees slightly spread – he looked at me for what seemed like an eternity.  
I covered my breasts and privates with my arms and hands.  
“What was that about making a sketch?”, I teased.  
He grinned at me.  
“I’m just making a mental image”, he answered, before crawling over my body; and catching my lips with his.

His weight on me was enough to make me soar with desire again. I moaned when I felt his chest-hair tickle my nipples.  
“Inside!”, I breathed.  
He grunted.  
“Still hungry…”, he smirked; and moved down my body again.

“Fuck!”, I yelped, as his tongue met my clit again. He suckled at it, as if nectar would flow from it, if he just continued long enough.  
He slid his finger into me again, had another join it; and began crooking them; pressing them upwards rhythmically. It wasn’t a minute before my body began to spasm. My whole core burned with delicious fire; and I grasped at the sheets, and dug my fingers into the fabric.

His fingers continued rubbing against that most pleasurable spot inside me, and he made satisfied sounds; as if he was eating a delicious fruit.  
His fingers began to move faster, drawing me nearer and nearer to my undoing. I could feel my walls begin to clench around his fingers.

I looked down, and his eyes met mine for a second; before I shattered, and everything went white.  
I let out a long, mewling gasp; lifted my back from the bed – and then; what felt like a pop from inside; made my muscles give; and I fell back on the mattress.

I felt his fingers leave my warmth – one of them flicking against my nub, sending a small jolt through me from overstimulation.  
He laid next to me; brushing his fingers up and down my torso.

When I could finally open my eyes; is saw a grin plastered across his face.  
“You… full now?”, I asked, panting.  
“Not even close”, he growled playfully; and used his leg to spread mine, placing himself between them. His penis was pressed against my entrance.  
“Ready?”.

I simultaneously shook and nodded my head; unsure what I meant myself.  
He smiled at me kindly.  
“We don’t have to do this now”, he said. “It’s a long way to Vizima. We have all the time in the world”.

I felt a pang of something I couldn’t describe. Vizima. Temeria.

Have to take it!  
I put both my hands on his bottom, and pushed with all my strength – taking him by surprise – and he slid into me with a roar.

“Move!”, I hissed, as he looked at me in wonder.  
He did as he was told. His hips began to grind against me; then he pulled back, and thrusted into me again; making me moan out loud from the sensation. He began to move continuously.  
“You’re still contracting”, he said between thrusts. “Inside”.  
“Whose fault is that?”, I moaned; and scratched my nails down his back; feeling every welt from every scar in the process.

We heard what sounded like a roster crowing from downstairs; and Geralt frowned.  
“When he grabbed your thigh, I wanted to rip his arm off!”, he growled; and slammed into me once; bottoming out. He roared like a wild beast; and I mewled in response.

Continuing his thrusts; I latched on to his lips; placing my hand firmly around the back of his neck, so he wouldn’t move his head.  
I pushed my tongue into his mouth, wrestling his for dominance.  
I grabbed a hold of his hair, and he returned in kind, making me hiss.

Another rooster crow; with a roar of laughter accompanying it; and the witcher once again slammed into me with a growl; making my stomach jolt from the depth of his thrust.

I pushed at his shoulder.  
“On top”, I panted; and kissed him passionately one last time, before he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him.  
He lay with bended knees, making my ass meet his thighs; and I began riding him, leaning against his legs.  
He grabbed my breasts; massaging them in his hands. I grinned down at him as I moved, and bit my lip.  
“I want that lip!”, he said, and sat up; grabbing my face, and suckled at his target.  
I groaned, and pushed at his chest, making him fall back towards the mattress.

He was stronger than me; could have easily kept a hold of me if he wanted – but he enjoyed the game I was playing. I grinned at him again, grinded against his cock; and grasped his firm thigh behind me – doing my best to leave my mark on his skin.

His fingers found my nub again; and he rubbed his thumb against it – his other hand once again holding on to my right breast.  
He moved under me; trying to match my grinding against him. I was moving back and forth on him; feeling every delicious inch of him inside me.  
His thumbs continuous stroking of my clit, sent sparks through me, and before long I once again found my high; this time with him inside me.  
I frantically grinded against him, putting my hands on his chest to be able to lift myself up and down on him. My insides continued to spasm around him; and he groaned and moaned along with me – chasing his own goal. His face almost looked agonized from lust.

As I cried out from pleasure; he suddenly took a hold of my hips, and lifted me up – thrusting into me from bellow frantically.  
My hands still on his chest, I pushed myself upwards along with him; mewling every time his hips met my ass, and he thrusted back inside me. Overstimulation threatened to take a hold of me; but he kept going -growling, as he dug into my eyes with his own.

“Geralt!...”, I moaned. “I can’t…”.  
”You can! Almost…”, he groaned; before hammering me down onto him one final time, and crying out.  
I felt him twitching inside me, and collapsed onto his chest.

I felt his fingers trace my spine.  
“You’re… something else”, he chuckled; the sound rumbling in his chest and into the ear I had pressed against it.  
I laughed, and turned my head to kiss his chest – nibbling at his nipple in the process.  
“I’m sure I am many things; but all I know is that right now, I am well and fucked”.

He laughed again, and pulled me up to his face for a kiss.

\---


	6. Chapter 6

6

The rooster that woke me up, was a real one. Sunlight was slipping in through the shutters; and lighting up the face of the man lying naked next to me – his arm draped over my chest.

We looked at each other for a long time without a word. I knew the situation should be awkward – our circumstance being as it was – but in that moment, it wasn’t.

His amber eyes were warm; nothing like the cold, heartless eyes I’d seen earlier. I lost myself in his gaze; and smiled.  
I ran a finger down the side of his face; from the soft skin on his temple, over the stubble on his cheek, and he closed his eyes in pleasure.  
He pulled me towards him gingerly, so that we were laid facing each other; and put his forehead to mine, exhaling with a satisfied expression. His arm was around me, and his fingers played with the hair at the back of my neck.

The fire having gone out; the room was cold; and Geralt pulled the covers over me, to shield me from it. I sighed contentedly, and he smiled at me; pulling me in for a soft kiss.  
I let my fingers slide over his chest, running them through the hair there; before slipping my arm around his warm body.  
Taking a hold of my thigh; he slowly slid my leg around his hip – still softly kissing my lips; occasionally letting the tip of his tongue met mine.

Our eyes met in mutual consent; and he gingerly slid inside me again – taking care not to hurt me; as I was still sore from our lovemaking the night before – we hadn’t stopped at one time, and I could see a few bruises on my arms from where he had held me pinned down on the mattress.  
I gasped as he began to move.  
“Do you want me to stop?”, he whispered.  
I shook my head.  
“Never”. He smiled softly.

His movements weren’t so much thrusts, as slow sways of his hips; as he held me against him.  
His member felt velvety as he moved in and out of me; and I stroked his back lazily – closing my eyes in relaxed pleasure.

We were in a state of pure bliss in that moment. Nothing could touch us inside this little bubble we had created.

He continued to move; pulling himself on top of me – taking care not to put his full weight on me. His hands slid over my breasts; fingers tracing a purplish bruise his mouth had left there.  
“I didn’t mean to hurt you”, he said; and kissed the mark.  
“You didn’t”, I breathed, and stroked his cheek. “I’m all right”.

Our lips met again; brushing against each other. He ran his hand down my side; lifting my leg to lay it around his torso.  
I moaned from the angle he was getting; only having made such a slight change to our position. He kept kissing me and gently excavating my core.  
His pubic bone was softly pushing against my bundle of nerves as he moved; and I felt my insides beginning to clench around him.

“Geralt…”, I breathed. “I can… only once…”.  
“Yes”, he whispered into my ear. “Together”.  
Moving a little faster; we chased our highs together – moaning in unison.

It wasn’t the same explosion as the ones that I had felt the night before – but no less pleasurable.  
It was a poof; and then a soft wave of tingling warmth spreading throughout my body.  
Geralt came along with me; a quiet groan as he pushed into me one final time – his cock twitching along with his body’s jolt.

Sliding out of me; he laid back on the mattress. His hair was tussled, and I grinned at him.  
“What?”, he asked.  
“Now you look well and fucked”, I giggled.  
He raised his eyebrows and smiled back at me.  
“I am”.

There was a gentle knock on the door.  
“Geralt?”, Jaskier called softly. “Are you awake?”

“Fuck”, Geralt grumbled.

I released myself from his grasp – squeezing his hand in the process – and went to get the robe I had left by the tub. The water was cold; but I used it to quickly rinse myself off from Geralts and my own juices; smiling at the memory of the moments we’d spent in it the night before.

Having put on his pants and breeches, and checked to see that I was decent – pouting playfully at the lack of skin he could see on me – Geralt unbolted and opened the door.  
Jaskier stepped in, carrying a tray of assorted fruits.  
“Good morning”, he chirped sweetly, like a mother to a child. He set down the tray, and sat himself on a chair by the table.  
Geralt went to build a fire.

“Well, that was a party!”, Jaskier smiled. “I didn’t see much of you. Where did you go?”.  
He looked from Geralt to me; to the untouched bedding on the cot by the door.  
Seeing my flushed cheeks; his mouth went agape.  
“Oh”. He said. “Oh! Oh, wow!”, he smiled brightly. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t see that coming”. Popping a grape into his mouth, he smirked and wiggled his brows. I ran a hand through my hair, and looked away.

“What do you want, Jaskier?”, Geralt asked.  
“I wanted to make sure to see you off”, the bard answered. I sat down across the table from him; wincing slightly from the pain in my nether regions. Jaskier drew in a long breath through his teeth. “Do you need some ice, my lady?”. I threw a plum at him. He laughed in response.

“Are you not continuing on with us?”, I asked, trying to change the subject.  
“Alas, I cannot”, he answered, stuffing his mouth with another three grapes. “The Baron has asked me to stay the week, and perform at the evening festivities each night. I’m charging him a good amount of coin for it”, he said proudly.  
“Good for you”, Geralt said disinterestedly.  
“Yes, well; I’m sure you’ll miss me very much”, Jaskier smirked at him.

He stood up and took my hand; kissing it chivalrously.  
“My lady. It has been an honor”, he said. “I shall write you another ode; and if we’re lucky, I’ll be able to sing it at your wedding”.

Geralt looked as if he was ready to smash the bards face into the wall.

Another knock on the door.  
“Jasky?”, a light voice tweeted.  
“Coming, Cri… Clo… Cuddle cake”, Jaskier called. “I can’t remember her name”, he whispered with a shrug.

He walked up to the witcher, and patted his shoulder.  
“Take care, old friend”, he said.  
“Goodbye, Jaskier”, Geralt answered. “Don’t die before we meet again”.  
Jaskier smiled brightly, and went out the door to join his newest conquest.

“I give it three days”, I smirked, making Geralt chuckle.  
He grabbed an apple from the tray, and took a large bite of it.  
“Get dressed”, he said, mouth full.  
I looked him with a raised eyebrow. He swallowed the bite.  
“Please?...”.

\---

We set off from Tigg within an hour. Geralt had offered me to sit on Roach, but I’d declined.  
“It’s probably going to be a few hours before I can straddle anything again”, I’d smirked at him; getting a grunting chuckle in response.

It was strange leaving behind the place we’d spent the night making love; and moving towards the place he was to hand me over to another man. I think we both felt the awkwardness of the situation build; but once we’d left the village behind us, and were out of the sight of others, Geralt took my hand; clearly trying to clear the air, somehow.

“Are we going to… do that… again?”, I asked. Suddenly I felt strangely shy.  
“What do you mean?”, he smirked; looking out the corner of his eye at me.  
“Fuck you, Geralt”, I sneered.  
“Oh, that! Yeah, I wouldn’t mind”, he chuckled. My face reddened.  
“Hels ass. I feel like a… bloody juvenile”, I snorted.

He stopped, and pulled me in to his arms.  
“I don’t know what this is; but whatever it is, it feels good”. I looked up at him. “I want you to be happy; safe and content. And if it wasn’t for your soreness; I’d want to throw you against that tree over there, and screw your brains out, until you screamed in pleasure. Trust me when I say; I haven’t felt that way about someone in quite a while”. I laughed, and bit my lip.  
“That fucking lip”, he growled. I raised a brow at him, and smirked. “Don’t play with fire, little frog”, he said warningly.

I got on my toes, and kissed him softly. He groaned in response.  
“What did I just say?”, he said, and looked at me with mock threat in his eyes.  
“Fine”, I said, and we kept moving.

We walked throughout the day, stopping once for a bite of bread; and a tender kiss.  
The landscape changed again; as we moved towards the edge of forestland.  
The air had a brisk chill to it; biting at my nose and cheeks. My knee was no longer in any real pain; so, I tried to keep a brisk pace, to keep myself warm.

“Eager to get to our destination?”, Geralt asked curtly.  
“I’m cold”, I bit back.  
“Sorry”, he said, voice softer.

I saw a patch of white flowers at the side of the road; and let go of Geralts hand to examine them.  
Chamomile!, I realized, and began gently cutting their stems with my knife, to save them for future use.  
I saw more plants further in to the trees, that I wanted to have a look at.  
“Y/N”, Geralt called after me.  
“I’m just going to look at these flowers”, I called back. “Keep your bloody breeches on… If you insist…”, I mumbled.

I found another patch of flowers – pretty pink ones – which I recognized to be oleander. I wasn’t in the habit of dabbling in poison; but if the last week had taught me anything, it was to always be prepared.  
I moved on; finding both honeysuckle and mandrake.  
Looking back over my shoulder, I could no longer see the road; or Geralt. I realized I was lost.

I tried to find my own tracks, thinking that I could follow them back. I didn’t want to call out for the witcher, admittedly a little ashamed about my predicament. It was swiftly becoming darker around me – the sun beginning to set.  
Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm. Geralt looked at me with angry eyes.

“You’ve been gone over half an hour. I thought you were trying to run again!”, he snarled.  
His words made me turn from embarrassed to enraged.  
“Who says I wasn’t?”, I said.  
“The honeysuckle in your satchel”, he answered.  
“How did you?...”, I began; remembering his perfect sense of smell. “Of course”, I scoffed.

He dragged me back to the road; which to my embarrassment was only about 50 yards away.

“You need to stay near me”, he growled, not letting go of my arm, and snatching my satchel from me. “I can’t spend every minute of the day having to worry that you’ll suddenly wander off and get yourself in trouble!”.

“I wish you’d just ignore your duty for once, and take me somewhere else!”, I said.  
“Y/N…”, Geralt said, having let go of me. “I can’t… Even if I did, I couldn’t give you what you want”.  
I looked at him confused, but he seemed to take that as sadness.  
“I’m sorry, little frog”, he said. “I was made for one thing. To kill. I’m not going to be able to settle down in a cabin near Kaer Trolde; shearing sheep and tending to crops”.

I stopped in my tracks – rage seeping out of every pore of my being.  
“Did you completely miss the point of what I told you that night?”, I snarled. “I don’t want you to change for me. I just don’t want to…”.

“Shut up”, he said.  
I slapped him hard across the face. He looked at me with a sudden indignance; which made me lift my arm, to strike him again. He caught my wrist in the air.  
“Shut up, and get out of sight!”. He shoved me towards the side of the road; gesturing for me to get behind the trees that made out the edge of the forest. I instantly obeyed; recognizing the expression on his face.

Crouching behind a tree, I looked down the road from where we had been coming. A group of men on black horses were approaching.

“Halt!”, the rider at the front called out. “You! Where is the girl?”, he demanded, looking at Geralt.  
“What girl?”, the witcher answered.  
“Don’t play dumb. The girl you’re transporting!”.

I recognized the men as the ones who had been at Coodcoodlaks feast.  
“She’s gone”, Geralt answered calmly. “She ran off. I’m searching for her myself”.  
The man laughed gruffly.  
“You lost the future queen of Temeria? Even a witcher can’t be that stupid”, he sneered. “Or is it that you take me for a fool?”, he added.  
Geralt smirked.  
“You brought only 4 men for a fight with a witcher. That seems foolish”.

The man got off his horse; his men following his lead. They all drew their swords.  
“Don’t tempt me, mutant”.  
I saw Geralts face contract into anger, and held my breath.  
“You should have just told me, if you wanted to dance”, he said.

The man put his blade to Geralts throat; making the witcher lean back slightly.  
“Where. Is. She?”, the man said asked again.  
Geralt bared his teeth in a sneer – his expression terrifying.  
“She ran away”, he repeated. “Which is something you should do as well”.

The man let out an angry grunt, pulled back his sword; and went to join his men at the horses.

“Don’t walk away angry; just walk away”, Geralt called after him.

Suddenly I felt something cold and sharp against my neck. Someone put their arm around my waist; pulling me against them.  
“Hello there”, someone whispered in my ear. I could feel his hot breath and spittle against my neck. It smelled rancid.

He dragged me from my hiding place; his blade making it clear that I shouldn’t struggle. I couldn’t help myself though; and tried to jostle myself out of his grasp. His knife nicked at the skin on my neck; and I felt a tiny trickle of blood from the wound, running down my collarbone.

My captor dragged me onto the road; and shoved me towards the man who had been threatening Geralt. He grabbed a hold of me with a laugh; holding me close to his chest.

“There she is, the whore”, the man sneered. “Don’t worry, witcher. We’ll bring her to our master. I’m sure he’ll bring her to good use”.

“I’m…”, I tried, “…my name is… Zaba. I’m an herbalist. I don’t know who this man is”.  
“Sure you are, my lady”, the man growled into my ear. “What’s in the satchel? The crown jewels?”.

Geralt drew his sword.  
“Let her go”, he snarled; his eyes almost black – not from any draughts, but from pure rage.  
The men around us drew their own weapons; and their leader kept me held against him; turning me, so my back was to his chest.  
“No. No, I don’t think so”, he chuckled; and let his hand travel to my breast, taking a hold of it – testing its firmness. “Come to think of it, maybe I’ll have a go at her myself”.

Geralt took a fighting stance, and then jumped forward with a brutal slash, hitting one of the men across the torso. He fell to the ground with a scream; and I could see his guts spilling from his stomach. One of his companions instantly vomited at the sight.

The men sprang at the witcher; but had not counted for his speed. Even the man holding me seemed surprised; which gave me the chance I needed.  
I threw my head back – hitting his nose – and then slipped the sgian-dubh out of my boot, and spun around; stabbing him in the side.  
The man squealed like a stung pig; and stumbled backwards. I drew my knife back; and turned towards the fighting behind me.

Geralt was effortlessly avoiding the slashes of his opponents swords; slashing at one mans shoulder, and hitting another on the back of his knee, making him unable to stand.  
At this point, three men were dead or dying; and Geralt grabbed the throat of a fourth one; lifting him into the air, and lowering him onto his sword – killing him instantly in the process.

The witcher ran towards me and the leader laying on the ground. The man was bleeding out, color gone from his face.  
My first captor sprang onto his horse, and made to ride off.  
“Tell O’Dimm the witcher has her!...”, the man on the ground cried out; before Geralts sword pushed through his neck; making any other words disappear into a rattle.  
The rider kicked at his horse, and quickly disappeared into the forest.

I looked down at the dead man at my feet.  
“I killed him…”, I said below my breath.  
“No. I killed him”, Geralt said gruffly, and pulled back his sword. “We have to get out of here”.  
He examined the horses the dead men had arrived on; and apparently being satisfied with the build of one of them, he took my satchel, and fastened it to the black stallion.  
“Come on”, he said.  
I was frozen in place; looking at my bloody hands; breathing superficially.

Geralt put his hands on either side of my face, forcing me to look into his eyes.  
“Y/N, these weren’t soldiers, but they were Nilfgaardian. They came here to take you to their master – Gaunter O’Dimm, I suspect. Whatever he has planned for you is not good”. He raised his eyebrows, boring into my eyes. “I killed them. They’re dead. It was bloody; you saw it happen, and you took part in the fighting yourself. This is real. And I need you to move past that; get on that horse, and follow me out of here”.

I shook myself.  
“Yes”, I said. Geralt nodded, and led me to the horse; quickly depositing me on its back. Kicking at the corpse of the man that had held me, he then took the mans sword, and fastened it to my saddle.

We rode through the night, putting as many miles between us and the battleground as possible.

\---

As the sun began to rise, we arrived at a lake. Geralt helped me off my horse. He gently slid his thumb over the cut on my neck, and grunted.  
“You can wash up. I’ll find us something to eat”. He went to get his things; but I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He put his hand on my cheek. “I’ll be close”, he smiled reassuringly.

I walked down to the edge of the water. Meeting my own eyes in the reflection, I didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me. Geralt dealt the finishing blow… but I killed him, I thought. I killed a man… a man that was going to do very bad things to me if I didn’t… and he’s dead now. Because of me.  
The thought didn’t make me as distraught as I thought it would. I should be screaming and feeling like a murderer – but in reality; I felt nothing but indifference. I’d done what I had to, to survive. I felt strangely… satisfied.

I quickly washed my face, arms and hands; and walked back to the horses. The black stallion standing next to Roach was beautiful and strong. I blew at his muzzle, as I had with Roach’s when I’d first met her – and he responded in kind.  
“You need a name, boy”, I whispered.

“Are you talking to your horse?”, Geralts gruff voice came from behind me. I turned to face him.  
“Training for conversations with you, I suppose”.  
He grunted with a smile.

He was carrying a dead hare by its ears, and slit his knife down its front, beginning to skin it. I winced at the sight.  
“You just saw 5 men killed brutally; but can’t stomach a hare being prepared for a meal?”, he chuckled.  
“I’ve just seen enough blood for a while”, I answered.

I went to build a fire, as Geralt continued his butchery of the hare. The flames were a welcome sight, after having ridden through the cold night.  
Putting the meat on a stick over the fire; Geralt looked at me with enquiring eyes.  
“You like animals?”, he asked.  
“No more than anyone else, I guess”, I answered.  
“But you know how to speak to them”, he said.  
I sighed, and considered his words.  
“I eat their meat; wear their skins; and ride their backs. It’s only fair to treat them with respect; if I expect for them to serve me like that”.  
He chuckled at my response, and handed me a piece of the meat to eat. It was sweet and gamey.

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”, he said, between bites.  
“What do you mean?”.  
“The cat. How you talk to the horses. I’ve never seen anyone interact that way with animals”.  
I looked at him challengingly.  
“Ask”, I said, as he had to me those nights before. “You want to”.  
He laughed, and narrowed his eyes.  
“You’re playing with things you shouldn’t, little frog”, he said. “Magic isn’t for humans”.

I laughed at him.  
“Not everything is magic, witcher”, I said. “Sometimes it’s just two creatures meeting, and reacting”.  
He exhaled with a grunt.  
“Are you unhappy with my answer?”, I asked teasingly.  
He looked into the fire.  
“I think there is more to you than you're telling me”, he grumbled.  
“Maybe”, I said. “But if there is, I don’t know”.  
He nodded.

We went to wash our bowls in the lake. The morning sun was shining orange across the sky.  
“Do you usually hit your lovers?”, the witcher asked out of nowhere. I looked at him questioningly. He gestured at a scratch on his cheek, that I’d apparently left there when I slapped him.  
I smirked.  
“Only the ones who ask for it”.  
He made a scoffing laugh.

“You missed a spot”, I smiled.  
“Where?”, he said, looking down at his bowl.  
“There”, I said; took a handful of water, and threw it at his face.  
I laughed heartily – until I saw his expression. It wasn’t angry, but it was menacing. He wiped his face, and snarled.  
I threw my bowl on the ground, and ran.  
“Hurry, little frog!”, he growled after me.

Laughing, I sped towards the trees; him fast at my heels.  
“Does water make witchers melt, like it does witches?”, I giggled, and looked back towards him.  
He was gone. My heart was in my throat, and a tingle spread through my body in anticipation. I couldn’t see him anywhere.  
I spun around, and he appeared in front of me; grabbing me around my waist with one arm.  
“I don’t know; do witches melt?”, he said, and emptied his bowl – filled with water – over my head.  
I yelped, and struggled to get away from him. I could feel his hardness against my stomach, and my breath hitched. Biting my lip; I smirked at him.  
“Fire…”, he growled; and grabbed my mouth in a violent kiss, leaving me breathless and panting.  
“There are plenty of trees around”, I moaned against him; and he picked me up – pushing me against an old oak.

Everything happened fast after that. Frantically kissing and panting; he pulled up my skirts; and put his large hand between my legs – earning a desperate mewl from me.  
“Mmhmm…”, he groaned; excavating my folds, and sliding two fingers into me.  
“No bath to confuse your wetness this time”, he growled into my mouth, as he kept kissing me.  
His fingers hooked, and his palm rubbed against my nub; quickly drawing me closer to my undoing.  
I was desperately trying to keep my composure; but quickly had to accept the fact that I was coming violently on his hand. He chuckled menacingly at me.  
“Only once isn’t going to be enough this time”, he said; pulling out his fingers, and tasting my juices on them. “Mmmhmm…”, he smirked.

I was still seeing starts as he was beginning to undo the buttons on his breeches; one knee between my knees to keep me from moving.  
I managed to push him away; meeting his confused eyes with a teasing smile. I turned him around; and pushed him against the tree; kneeling down in front of him.  
Looking up at him, his expression had turned primal; the pupil in his amber eyes blown.

I finished the task he had started on his breeches; and reached down into his pants, taking a hold of his hardness – relishing in the soft skin covering the rod-like firmness underneath it.  
I tasted the salty precum with the tip of my tongue; and closed my eyes, smiling. I gently cupped his testicles; and folded his penis against his stomach; tracing my tongue from the base to the head of it.

Geralt gasped, and put his hand on my head; sliding his fingers into my hair.  
“Y/N”, he sighed.  
Giving his balls a soft squeeze; I slid my lips around the head and sucked at it, before moving my head towards the base; massaging it with my tongue all the way.

Geralt let out another gasp; and I released him from my mouth, smiling up at him.  
“I think I found your weakness, witcher”, I whispered; letting my index finger find the soft skin just behind his testes, stroking it. I pumped his cock, and licked the tip again.  
“Princess…”, he moaned. I gave his member a firm squeeze, and frowned up at him; removing my tongue from where it had been.  
Chiding him with my eyes, he smiled apologetically.  
“Sorry”, he breathed.  
“Better”, I smiled; and slid him into my mouth again; going as deep as I could without choking.

I kept massaging his balls, and hummed softly as I bobbed my head back and forth. He tasted better than any treat I’d had before.  
Before long I felt the precious jewels in my hand tighten; and Geralts voice became strained in his moaning. He grabbed tightly at my hair, and cried out – before coming in my mouth. Pulling him out, I looked him in the eyes; swallowed; and smiled.

He stroked my cheek, and looked at me in wonder. In front of my face, his still hard member was twitching; and I gave it a final lick at its head – like it was a delicious sweetie on a stick.  
“Fuck”, he groaned at me, looking on in amazement.  
I stood up; straightened my skirts and smiled again.  
“That was lovely”, I said sweetly, and went to walk back to the horses.

“Not finished!”, he snarled; picked me up; and slammed me against the tree-trunk again.  
I gasped in shock.  
“Again?”, I squeaked.  
“Again”, he growled; hitched my skirts back up, and sank into me with his still rock hard cock.

“Remember what I said?”, he breathed into my ear.  
I nodded; digging my fingers into his jerkin, holding on to him as he thrusted.  
“Screaming in pleasure, little frog”.  
“Do your best, wolf!”, I panted.

Having held on to only one of my legs; he now lifted the other one from the ground; and was now carrying my weight, as he continuously hammered into my core.  
The familiar tingling returned; turning in to a pulsating warmth; before finally exploding – as I began throbbing around his length.

And then I did as he’d said. I screamed in pleasure.

\---


	7. Chapter 7

7

“You’re going to need some new clothes”, Geralt said, as we were packing up, a little after noon. “O’Dimm will have his men looking for a young woman in a blue dress”.  
I sighed.  
“I shouldn’t have told them my name was Zaba. They’ll know to be looking for someone with that name”.  
“I think it’ll be fine”, he said. “But the clothes have to go”.  
I put my hands on my hips and smirked at him.  
“If you wanted me naked, you could just say so”, I laughed.

He dropped the satchel he’d been carrying; and walked up to me – sliding his arms around me, and cupping my bottom.  
“I’ve already had you once today, but I could go again”, he said; and kissed the tender skin under my ear.

“Hello!”, a voice called from a distance.

“If that’s Jaskier, I’m going to kill him”, Geralt growled.  
“If I don’t get to him first”, I mumbled.  
He smiled; and kissed me softly.

“Hello?”, the voice called; closer this time. “Are you the witcher? Geralt of Rivia?”.  
A short fat man was running in our direction; wearing a white tunic covered in red stains.  
Geralt drew his sword, and pushed me to stand behind him.

The man – clearly not used to running – stopped for a second, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He waddled up to us; and Geralt put away his sword, clearly not sensing any danger from him.  
“I’m Harken Danis”, the man coughed. “I come from Birxen. I need your help”.  
Geralt grunted.  
“I already have a contract”, he answered. I put a hand on his back, signaling for him to hear the man out.  
“Please, master witcher, I’m desperate”, Danis said. “It’s my son. He’s in grave danger!”.

I stepped towards the man.  
“Please, come sit by the fire. Have some water”.

Danis followed me back to the fire, and sat down; accepting the waterskin I offered him.  
“Thank you, young lady. You are very kind”.  
Geralt sat down opposite him.  
“Say your peace”, he demanded. I chided him with my eyes.

Danis sighed.  
“My son, Ajvin, he’s been hexed by a succubus”. I bit my cheek to avoid laughing – making Geralt lift his brows at me. The man continued.  
“He’s lost his mind! He won’t listen to us; and my wife is terribly distraught”, Danis said, tears welling up in his eyes. “She’s cast him under some spell!”.

Geralt stood up and began kicking dirt into the fire.  
“Succubi don’t do spells. She didn’t make him lose his mind; his cock did that all on its own”.  
Danis scoffed.  
“I beg your pardon?”.  
Geralt sighed.  
“They have sex with their victims. It’s good sex; but the…”, he was looking for the word, “… prey, can leave at any time. They won’t force themselves on someone; only take advantage of the ones that accept their offer of a good time. Your son can walk away any time he wants”.

Danis began bawling; tears running down his fat cheeks.  
“Please sir! I have coin. I’ll pay you handsomely!”.  
Geralt let out a long groan.  
“How far away is Birxen?”, he asked.  
“It’s not far. An hour on horseback; due south”, Danis sobbed.

Geralt turned towards me.  
“We’ll be going out of our way”, he muttered.  
“We still have a long way to Vizima. One hour south isn’t going to make much of a difference”, I smiled. “And I get to see you in action again”.  
He grunted.  
“Turn on?”, he asked.  
“A little”, I admitted with a smirk. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“25 crowns”, Geralt said to Danis over his shoulder.  
“I-i can pay 20”, Danis answered.  
Geralt turned around.  
“You’re a butcher, yes?”, he said, looking at the mans stained clothes.  
“Y-yes”, he answered.  
“20, and 4 pounds of good meat”.  
“Mutton?”, Danis asked.  
“Anything but”, Geralt answered; looking at me over his shoulder. I smiled at him.

“Go back to your wife. We’ll be there as soon as we can”, he said.  
Danis dried his eyes.  
“Thank you, good sir!”, he said; and waddled back in the direction he’d been coming from.

\---

After having packed up, we got on our horses, and began moving south. The fall air was still chilly, but the sun and lack of wind made the trek bearable.  
I was still smiling to myself at our strange encounter.

“You had sex with a succubus?”, I asked Geralt.  
“It was a long winter”, he answered.  
I laughed out loud.  
“Come on, witcher”, I said. “There has to be more to the story”.  
“Not really”, he answered. “It’s like I told the butcher. They choose a victim, offer themselves up; and in my case, I said yes”.  
I considered his words for a moment.  
“But they… drain their lovers, don’t they?”, I asked.  
“Yes”, he answered. “Like I said, it was a long winter”.  
I chuckled.  
“But… it was good?”, I smirked.  
He looked out the corner of his eyes at me.  
“I’ve had better”, he grunted. I smirked in response.

We made it to Birxen not long after. Danis was there to great us outside his shop – which seemed to double as his home, I realized, when his wife invited us inside for a meal.

The dimly lit room had a rank smell of fresh and old blood, coming from a table in the corner – seemingly the butchers’ workstation. On the floor lay a dog, almost as fat as its master.  
I went to scratch it behind its ear; but felt Geralt tug at my dress.  
“Not the time to make new friends”, he said. “Let’s just get this over with”.

“It seems all I do on this journey is eat, sleep and watch you fight”, I said below my breath, as the woman was tending to her pots.  
“That, and have sex”, Geralt muttered with a smirk.  
“Well that part is new. And much more fun than being attacked by monsters”, I answered. He grunted in response.

“It’s so kind of you to come help us, master. I am very worried about my Ajvin”, the butchers wife said. In contrast to her husband, she was quite skinny – but must have been very good cook, as her husbands’ girth was evidence of.  
She’d prepared a small feast of fried potatoes, vegetables, and a roast of pork.  
The butcher dug right in, gobbling down immeasurable amounts of potatoes, and a chunk of meat as large as Geralts upper arm. The sight of it made my stomach churn.

“How did you know where to find me?”, Geralt asked.  
“Well…”, Danis said, sucking his fingers, “… a man came through town a few days back. Said he was on his way to meet with a witcher, named Geralt of Rivia. He wondered if you’d been through here already. Said you’d be coming from the western shore; Attre. I told him you might have passed Tigg on your way, that he should search there”.  
“His name?”, Geralt asked impatiently. I kicked his leg under the table.  
“He called himself Ermion”.

Mousesack!, I thought. Geralt noticed my face lighting up, and squeezed my knee in recognition.

“Did he say anything else?”, I asked.  
“Only that he’d be travelling with a woman; and that he had information she needed to hear”, the wife answered. “Was that you?”.  
“No”, Geralt answered brusquely. I clenched my jaw.

“Your boy”, Geralt said. “Tell me about him”.  
Danis’ wife began crying.  
“There, there, Mirtha”, Danis said, patting her head with his large hand. “The witcher is here to help us now”.  
“Yes”, she bawled. “Yes, good sir. Please save my boy”.  
“I need information”; Geralt grumbled.

I tried to eat some of the food on my plate, but quickly lost my appetite; when I saw Danis move his attention from his crying wife, and back to devouring another serving of meat.  
“He’s a good boy, my Ajvin”, Mirtha cried. “Always brought me flowers, and sang such lovely songs”.  
“He should be doing less singing, and more butchering”, Danis grumbled.  
Mirtha dabbed at a blot of stray meat-juice from his chin.  
“Now, Harkin; don’t you go speaking ill of our boys singing”, she said. “It’s lovely”.  
The butcher scoffed.  
“It’s useless is what it is”, he said.

Geralt was growing impatient.  
“So he sings. What else?”. I kicked his leg again.

Mirtha poured another serving of ale into her husbands’ mug.  
“A few months ago, Ajvin went to gather flowers and plants for pressing”, she said. “He makes lovely little frames to hang on the wall”. She gestured to a collection of pretty little frames with pictures made of pressed rose hip flowers and daisies.  
“He was gone such a long time, and when he came home, his cheeks were flush, and he wouldn’t speak to us”, the woman continued.

“And then?”, I asked; earning a look from Geralt.  
“Well”, she continued. “This kept happening, you see. He’d go out in the morning, and not come back ‘til late at night; looking tired and spent”.  
Danis nodded.  
“Sat him down, I did!”, he said, mouth full of green beans. “Told him that he wasn’t pulling his weight around here. That he was scaring his mother. I insisted he tell us what he was doing, when he left the house”.

Mirtha began bawling again.  
“Said he’d been meeting a girl”, she sobbed. “But no normal girl would make a good boy leave his mother so distraught!”.  
Danis slammed his fist into the table, making the plates and mugs jump.  
“She’s a succubus, I tell you”, he roared. “Draining Ajvin of his seed, to create young’uns. Little devils! I’ve heard the stories…”.  
Mirtha blew her nose in her apron.  
“Save my boy, witcher!”, she begged.

Geralt sighed.  
“Give us a place to sleep tonight, and I’ll follow your boy to the… succubus, tomorrow morning”, he said.  
Mirtha smiled widely.  
“You can have the hayloft in the barn”, she said.

“Thank you for doing this, master witcher”, Danis said. “Mirtha’s been so upset, I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks”.  
“That why you were crying, back at our camp?”, I asked.  
“Well, I’ve lost at least 5 pounds from it. It’s unbearable!”.

\---

My stomach was growling from not having been able to eat in front of Danis.

“You should never waste an opportunity to eat”, Geralt chided, and pulled out a serving of vegetables he’d smuggled from the table.  
“The sight of the butcher made me feel sick to the stomach”, I mumbled.  
“Why?”, Geralt asked. “Because he’s fat?”  
“Fat has nothing to do with it. You can enjoy food without being a slop about it”, I answered, before chowing down on the meal in front of me.  
“Look who’s talking”, he chuckled.  
“Fuck off”, I retorted, mouth full. “So, we’re following the boy tomorrow?”.

“I’m following him”, Geralt said, while unstrapping his sword from his back. “You’re staying here”.  
“Geralt!”, I whined.  
“No”, he said. “Even if this isn’t a succubus, it might get dangerous”.

I put down the carrot I had been chewing on, and wiped my hands. Geralt had sat down next to me, leaning against a beam holding up the roof.  
“I’ve spent the last week traipsing through the country with you; meeting ghosts, wild animals and necrophages. Yesterday, I stabbed a man in the lung. Now you won’t let me see you follow a butcher’s son through the woods?”.  
“No”, he repeated.  
I sighed; and looked at him. He chuckled.  
“It’s not going to work”, he said.

I hitched up my skirts; and went to sit on his lap – straddling him.  
“Y/N…”, he began.  
“Geralt…”, I interrupted him. “You expect me to let you track down a succubus on you own? You might never come back. We know what happened last time…”.  
He grunted.  
“You could try to remind me what I have to come back to”, he breathed, and leant in to kiss me.

I pulled back.  
“No”, I said, shaking my head.  
“No?”, he asked, confused.  
“You have a contract”, I said. “You’re supposed to protect me, keep me close”.  
He let out a long groan, frowning at me.  
“Y/N…”, he said.  
“Besides; if I’m not with you, how do you know I won’t run away?”, I smirked.

“I could tie you down”, he growled, putting one hand on my back, and the other on my bottom; pulling me hard towards him. Our groins met, and my breath hitched.  
“Is that a promise?”, I breathed, and raised a brow at him, biting my lip.  
He groaned, and kissed me. I tried to pull away, but this time he moved his hand from my back, and held it to the back of my head, to keep it there.

I giggled against his lips.  
“This is fun to you?”, he growled.  
“Very”, I answered.  
“I think the only real succubus here is you”, he said.  
“Well…”, I said, nipping lightly at his lower lip, “… maybe you should take what’s offered”.

He let out a long groan; and pressed my hips closer to his, letting me feel his hardness. He leant in to kiss me again; but I put a finger to his lips.  
“Oh…”, I said, “… but I’m still coming with you”.

\---

At dawn I woke from the sound of moving in the stable bellow the hayloft. Geralt was fully dressed, and sitting still as a statue; looking out the small glassless window at the gable.  
He turned his head to look at me, and put a finger to his lips. I nodded.  
The rustling downstairs ended with the closing of the stable doors.  
“Get dressed”, Geralt whispered, keeping his eyes on something moving outside.

Moments later we were walking through the woods behind the butcher’s house. Geralt wasn’t making a sound as he moved – I on the other hand was finding it difficult to avoid stepping on twigs and rustling leaves.  
Geralt looked back at me.  
“Try to step where I do”, he whispered.

I followed his moves; and soon we left the woods, moving into a meadow. About 100 yards away, I saw a scrawny young man, picking flowers.  
“Ajvin”, I whispered. Geralt nodded.

We crouched behind a large boulder. Suddenly, a pretty young woman came running into the meadow. Ajvin stood up, opened his arms, and she ran into his embrace, kissing him passionately. They sat down and began talking. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw Geralt smirking.

“What’s happening?”, I whispered.  
He chuckled.  
“Her name is Lysa”, he said. “He’s singing her a song he wrote about her”.  
“Aaww”, I smiled. “That’s sweet”.  
“It’s a terrible song”, he smiled.  
“Sing it to me”, I said.  
“I don’t sing”, he grunted.  
“Well, tell me the words, then”, I demanded.  
He sighed.  
“Lysa my dear. Your skin is so fine. Won’t you, oh won’t you, oh won’t you be mine”.  
I laughed.  
“You’re right. It’s a terrible song”.

Lysa leant against Ajvin, and he put his arm around her.  
I put my chin on Geralts shoulder.  
“They’re sweet”, I said.  
“They’re young and stupid”, he answered.  
“Maybe. But they’re happy. They chose each other”.  
Geralt looked at me, his eyes suddenly sad.  
“I’m sorry I can’t give you that”, he said. “I can’t give you flowers and songs in a meadow”.

I kissed his shoulder.  
“I don’t want flowers and meadows”, I said. “I just want a choice”.  
He let out a long breath; and then kissed my forehead.

Ajvin and Lysa began kissing and then quickly undressing each other.  
“Oh…”, I said.  
“Yes”, Geralt agreed. “We should probably…”.  
“Absolutely”, I said.  
He stood up, and took my hand to help me on my feet. Standing in front of him; he put his hand on my cheek, and softly kissed me.

We left the meadow as quickly as we had arrived.

\---

Deciding Ajvide wasn’t in any danger, we had time to waste before returning to the butcher. Much to Geralts dismay, I decided to spend that time fully clothed; and working on the herbs and plants I’d gathered.  
I was standing over a makeshift worktable – an old tree that had fallen over – carefully making thin slices of the mandrake.  
“Thank you for this sacrifice”, I whispered to the almost humanoid-like root laying in front of me.

“You talking to the plants now?”, Geralt grumbled. He was standing leaning against a tree.  
“Mandrake. If it doesn’t kill you with its scream when you pull it from the ground; it might drive you to suicide when you ingest it”, I said. “I have to be respectful in the preparations of it. It didn’t choose its final purpose in this world; and it might take revenge on me”.

Geralt went to stand behind me; leaning over my shoulder to look.  
“Too thick”, he grunted.  
“I’m slicing it perfectly fine”, I said.  
He slid his arms around my waist, and pressed his hips towards my bottom; making clear his intention.  
“Not what I meant, little frog”, he breathed into my ear; and moved his hand towards the apex of my thighs.  
I gasped slightly.  
“Not in front of the mandrake”, I chuckled.  
“I’m sure it wouldn’t mind having it’s dying sight be of your perfect breasts bouncing”, he moaned; and let his other hand grab a hold of aforementioned part of my body.

Desperately trying to keep my head; I shrugged him off. Geralt looked at me with a frown.  
“I need to finish this”, I smiled.  
He groaned.  
“Besides, master witcher”, I smirked. “Don’t you have a contract to finish? The case of the non-existing succubus?”.  
He smiled wickedly.  
“I though we established last night, that you were the succubus”.  
I scoffed.  
“Oh, so now I’m draining the life out of you”.  
“Fuck”, he groaned. “Bad choice of words”.  
I smiled at him forgivingly.  
“Once I’m done here, we can go back to Danis and collect your pay”, I said. “Then, we can find a nice spot where you can fuck the living daylights out of me as much as you want”.

He looked at me with dark eyes.  
“Hurry”, he growled.

\---

In the late afternoon we were back at the butcher’s house. He was waiting inside.  
“Well?”, he demanded. “Is it done? Is the demon dead?”.

Geralt sat down at the table, looking at him with hard eyes.  
“The demon is a young woman, who’s fallen in love with your son”, he said. “And he loves her”.  
My heart jumped a little at his words.  
“Love?”, Danis spattered; throwing what appeared to be a pigs-snout to the oversized dog on the floor. “Love has nothing to do with it. What love would have a boy ignore his parents plans for him?”.

I narrowed my eyes at him.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”, I asked.  
“He’s supposed to take over the shop here. Find him a good wife that’ll fatten him up and bear him some children. Not run around in the fields with some… harlot!”.  
I was about to scream some choice words at him; when I felt Geralts hand on my knee under the table.

“Danis”, he said pointedly. “You brought me here to kill a succubus; even though I told you that such creatures carry no real danger. Now, you want me to… what, slit the throat of a girl; for no other reason than the fact that she makes your son happy?”.  
The butcher looked at Geralt with enraged eyes.  
“I’m not paying you anything until you get rid of that… that succubus!”, he snarled. “She must be a demon! Why else would Ajvin…”.

He was interrupted by Mirtha opening the door.  
“Harken, our boy is back!”, she beamed.  
We all went outside.  
“Witcher, you did it! Our son has come home!”, Mirtha sobbed through happy tears.

Ajvin was standing in front of us; his hair tussled, and it seemed he’d put on his shirt inside out.  
“It’s alright ma’. I’m here now”, he said; and hugged his crying mother.  
“Yes you are, son”, Danis smiled. “And now no more of that rubbish with that wench. You can get back to butchering with me”.  
Ajvin looked angrily at his father.  
“Don’t call her that!”, he said. “I love Lysa. We’re getting married!”.  
Danis gasped.  
“You, what?”, he snarled. “You’re mad, boy!”.

I felt Geralt tense up next to me. I grasped his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze, which he returned after having relaxed his shoulders.

“She’s bewitched you, Ajvin”, Mirtha sobbed. “You have lost your mind; you must have!”.  
Ajvin smiled gently at her.  
“I haven’t, ma’”, he said. “I love Lysa, and she loves me. She makes me happy. She makes me dream up the most beautiful songs and poems; just from the way she looks at me”. I stifled a smile, remembering the beautiful song Geralt had recited to me in the meadow.  
They embraced; and Mirtha’s tears once again seemed to become happy ones.

“Rubbish!”, Danis cried out. “Get your head out of the clouds, Ajvin. You are meant to be a butcher – like me and your granda’ – not a singer”.

“But da’. I don’t want to be a butcher”, Ajvin said. “I want to be a poet. I don’t like killing animals”.  
“Rubbish”, Danis repeated.  
Ajvin shook his head.  
“It’s not rubbish. I’m going to Oxenfurt to train. Just like the great Jaskier. And Lysa’s coming with me”.  
Geralt raised an eyebrow.

Mirtha looked at her son with pleading eyes.  
“Is this what you want, son? Will this make you truly happy?”, she asked.  
He nodded.  
“It is, ma’”.

The butcher stormed towards Geralt; with a speed I didn’t know he had in him.  
“You!”, he yelled; pointing an angry finger at the witcher. “I’m not paying you as much as a rotten parsnip!”.  
Geralt looked ready to throttle the man, but before he could, Mirtha walked up behind him; and smacked him across the back of his head.  
“Shut up, Harkin!”, she growled. “You brought him here; you’ll pay him!”.  
“But…”, Danis tried.  
“No buts!”, Mirtha said. “Our boy has made up his mind. And you’ll support him”.

Danis muttered a curse; and then handed Geralt a small purse.  
“You’re not getting the meat!”, he snarled; and waddled back into his house.

Nodding at both Mirtha and Ajvin, we went to get the horses. The young man caught up to us at the stable doors.

“Are you Geralt of Rivia? The White Wolf?”, he asked.  
Geralt grunted.  
“That is…”, Ajvin looked flabbergasted. “You sir… you are so lucky to have been graced with the friendship of the great bard, Jaskier. Please tell me; what’s he like?”.  
Geralt seemed as if he was just about to say something rather unpleasant.  
“Very focused on his craft”, I said quickly.  
“His craft being women, drinking and laziness”, Geralt muttered below his breath. I bumped his arm with my shoulder, and smiled widely at Ajvin.  
“Good luck in Oxenfurt”, I said. “And good health on your marriage”.  
Ajvin beamed at me.  
“Thanks, my lady”.

He went to walk back to the house.  
“Oh!”, he said. “I nearly forgot”. He handed over some folded fabric and leather. “Ma’ said she’d noticed a patch on your dress; and seeing as you’re travelling what seems to be quite a way; it would be better for you to have something appropriate to wear”.  
I looked at the clothes I was holding. A mix of greys and browns; and what looked like a bright purple shirt.  
Ajvin half smiled at me.  
“I dyed it myself”, he said.  
I thanked him.  
“Safe journeys to you both”, he said, and left us.

I chuckled, and shook my head.  
“Are your contracts always like this?”, I asked Geralt.  
He grunted.  
“Not exactly”, he said. “But it’s not the first time someone mistook a pretty girl for a demon”.  
We got on our horses, and left Birxen behind.

\---

At nightfall we came upon the ruins of an old cottage.  
“I wonder who lived here”, I said.  
“Tonight, we do”, Geralt grumbled; and began to tie the horses to a tree outside the ramshackle building. My stallion began making neighing sounds.  
“Don’t even think about it. I’ll make you a gelding”, Geralt growled at it; and led Roach to another tree, a few yards away.  
“Bayrd”, I said. “His name is Bayrd. The one who sings”.  
Geralt chuckled.  
“You’re mad, little frog”.  
I grinned at him.

That night; Geralt fucked the living daylights out of me; as I looked at the stars through the holes in the roof of the old cottage. Once he was finished – having made sure we both met a more than satisfying end – I fell asleep with my ear to his chest; lulled by the sound of his slow heartbeat.

\---


	8. Chapter 8

8

We rode for days, due northeast; each mile we put behind us bringing me closer to my inevitable end. At least, that was how it felt.  
I felt my limbs growing stronger from riding and carrying wood for fires; and though the sun was never shining brightly; my skin grew more tanned by the day.

Geralt had begun to train me with the sword he’d taken from O’Dimm’s man. I wasn’t a skilled swordswoman by any means; but I was sure I’d be able to defend myself in a fair fight.  
We made breaks for eating, resting, training, arguing, making up; and the occasional fuck against a tree – a least once a day, on a bad day.

On one of these occasions; in his eagerness; Geralt almost ripped the buttons off the breeches Ajvin had given me.  
“Fuck!”, he growled. “I don’t like these things; they make it too difficult to have you”.  
“You were the one who insisted I need new clothes”, I laughed. “Besides, practicality over easy access”.  
I opened the buttons myself, and slid down the breeches over my bottom; before bracing myself against a tree with my hands, and pushing my backside out.

Geralt accepted the invitation, and felt for my wetness; before pushing himself into me, slowly.  
“I thought you were in a hurry”, I breathed in complaint.  
Geralt pulled himself back; and slammed back into me, hard.  
“Shit!”, I cried out.  
“Too much?”, Geralt chuckled hoarsely. One of his hands held on to my hip; the other found my nub, and stroked it to the rhythm of his thrusts.  
“W-why do you always ask that?”, I panted.  
He slid his arm around my torso, and took a light hold of my throat; pulling me flush against his chest.  
“I don’t want to hurt you”, he said, kissing my neck.  
“You haven’t yet”, I smiled; before groaning loudly, as he pushed himself hard into me again.

He let me come before finding his own relief – as always; inside me. I suspected it was his way of making his mark on me – even if we both knew there was no chance of a child coming out of it.

After cleaning myself up – with a clean wet cloth provided by an embarrassed looking Geralt – I straightened my clothes.  
I’d had to make alterations to them – clearly they were Ajvids own old clothing; including the purple shirt that hung low on my shoulders.  
My new outfit furthermore consisted of dark grey breeches, that I’d adjusted so they hung snugly to my frame – making a certain witcher have to occasionally adjust himself, when I bent over – and a dark brown leather jerkin, without sleeves. I still had my grey cloak; which kept me somewhat warm during the nights, when Geralt had to patrol the area around our camps for sounds he’d heard – and therefore could not lay next to me.

There was a strange domesticity to our days. As if we’d be travelling like this for the rest of our lives. But we won’t, I kept reminding myself.

The man travelling with me – my lover, my friend, my confidant – was transporting me closer and closer to a land further from mine than I had ever been.  
The man who spent most of his nights between my legs and staring into my eyes; was handing me over to a stranger, who would from then on have a claim on doing those things himself.  
The thought made me sick to my stomach; but I kept returning to it, to remind myself – so that my heart wouldn’t break as much when the day came that our journey was at an end.

The glade we were occupying was quiet. Food had been scarce for a few days, as we hadn’t come across any villages; and it seemed that most of the wildlife had fled.  
I sat by the dying embers at our fire, thinking.

“I want to see Mousesack”, I said, catching Geralt of guard.  
“Why?”, he asked, voice gruff.  
“He has information for me. The butcher’s wife said so”.  
Geralt poured a bowl of water over the embers.  
“He’s going the opposite direction than we are”, he said dismissively.  
“Who’s eager to reach our destination now?”, I mumbled.

Geralt went to pack Roach’s saddlebags. He still kept our horses apart, for fear that Bayrd should act on his carnal desires towards his mare.  
“I don’t want to do this now”, he said.  
“Do what?”, I asked.  
“Fight”, he answered.  
“I’m not fighting”, I said, standing to kick dirt into the smoking ashes in front of me. “I’m stating facts. You made a contract to transport me to Temeria. You are acting on it. I’m just surprised you were in such a hurry to get rid of me”. I clenched my jaw.

Geralt grunted, and continued his task, moving on to Bayrds saddle.  
“I understand it, you know”, I said, putting on my cloak. “You’re a witcher. I age; and you do not. Besides, you’ve already had me every which way you could want”.  
“Stop…”, he muttered.  
“It’s inevitable that you were bound to get sick of me at some point…”, my voice broke.  
“Stop!”, he roared.

He strode up to me; and took my face in his hands.  
“Y/N”, he said. “You are the furthest thing from easy to be around. You are stubborn; rash; you never listen… and your mushroom stew is bad enough to kill a dead man”.  
He put his forehead to mine.  
“And I would have you no other way. I wish I could keep you; but that’s not how destiny has made it”.  
“Fuck destiny”, I snarled. He chuckled.  
“If only I could”, he answered.  
He kissed my forehead; and wrapped his arms around me. My eyes welled up, and I cried against his shoulder.

“I have to see Mousesack”, I whispered through my tears.  
Geralt exhaled.  
“I know. But I don’t know where to find him for you”, he said. “We can’t go backwards…”.

He was interrupted by a rumbling of hooves, that almost made the ground quake.  
He pushed me towards the trees.  
“Go! Cover your face. Don’t let them see you!”, he hissed, and pulled his sword from his back.  
I ran to Bayrd, and grabbed my new sword; then fled towards the edge of the trees; crouching behind the largest one I could find.

The riders approaching bore Cintran colors. It was a large group; of about 20 men; all dressed in armor.  
I saw Geralt glance in my direction, before facing the rider at the front.

“Witcher!”, the man called. “What is your business so close to Ortagor?”.  
Geralt relaxed his stance.  
“I have a contract”, he answered. “A bruxa. Near the border of Sodden”.  
“And your companion?”, the man asked.  
“I have no companion”, Geralt said.  
“Since when do witchers travel with two horses?”, the man barked.

Geralt put his sword back in its sheath.  
“No answer?”, the soldier said. “You’d do best to respect your betters, mutant”.  
Geralt clenched his jaw.  
“Right!”, the soldier called to the men behind him. “Take the mare. As a gift for her majesty’s war efforts”.  
Geralt snarled and went to draw his sword again.

“Calm the fuck down, Thaggert!”, a familiar voice called. “I have enough horses. Besides, I like the stallion better”.

From the middle of the group of riders, strode a tall woman; dressed in intricately decorated armor. She got of her horse, and walked up to Geralt; flanked by two of the soldiers.  
“Witcher”, she hissed. I recognized her instantly. Calanthe. The Lioness of Cintra!  
“Your majesty”, Geralt grumbled; and nodded slightly. Nothing in the world could get him to bow to anyone, I knew that – something that at that moment made me fear for his life.

“You made a promise!”, she snarled.  
“I did, your majesty. And I am upholding that promise as we speak”, Geralt answered her. “I am here for a contract”.  
“What contract?”, Calanthe demanded.  
“As I told your man”, he replied. “Bruxa. Near Sodden”.  
Calanthe spat at the ground.  
“Horse shit”, she said. “We were just coming from Sodden; no word of vampires there. Tell me the truth”.  
Geralt exhaled slowly.  
“Men!”, Calanthe called. The soldiers drew their swords.

“He’s here with me!”, I yelled; and stepped out from behind the tree.  
Geralt looked at me angrily. I sent him an indifferent look back.  
“You? Show your face girl”, Calanthe barked.

I stepped into the glade, and pulled down my hood. Calanthes face lit up.  
“Y/N!”, she laughed. “What are you doing here, girl?”. She stomped up to me, and took me in her arms for a tight squeeze.  
“Lower your weapons, men. This is the lady Y/N, my husband’s cousin”, she said; and patted my cheek. “And; the future queen of Temeria!”.

The soldiers on the ground took a knee, and the ones still on horses bowed their necks to me. I felt a strange knot in my stomach.  
“Where is your guard, girl? Your following?”, she asked.  
I nodded in the direction of Geralt.  
“Him?”, Calanthe asked; frowning bewilderedly at me.  
“He is… my guard”, I answered.  
Calanthe stepped back, looking from me to Geralt.  
“What in Hels ass was Eist thinking?”, she snarled. Calanthe was married to a Skelliger, not one herself – but she had taken on some of our profanities; at least the ones she liked.

I walked towards Geralt.  
“My cousin seemed to find it a necessity to keep my travel arrangements a mystery to certain parties. So, he hired the witcher”.  
The queen laughed sarcastically.  
“Oh, I am going to have words with my husband”, she growled.

One of the riders called out to her.  
“Your majesty; Ortagor awaits your arrival”.  
Calanthe sighed.  
“Yes, yes. Someone is always awaiting my arrival”, she groaned. “We take them with us. The lady rides along side me… the witcher takes the back. Keep an eye on him”.

Geralt sent me a poignant look, and went to saddle up on Roach.  
Before he got all the way over to the mare; Calanthe grasped his arm and looked at him – her eyes ablaze.  
“If it wasn’t for my cousin-in-law, your head would be rolling on the ground!”.  
Geralt tried for a mediating expression.  
“Your majesty…”.  
“Don’t!”, Calanthe hissed. “If I hear you’ve been asking about the child – even so much as mentioned Pavetta – I’ll personally cut of your bollocks, and feed them to my dogs!”.

My heart dropped. Geralts eyes found mine for a second; before falling to the ground.  
Calanthe let go of his arm, and went back to join her men.

I went to saddle up, my hands shaking so much in the process, I almost lost my footing in the stirrup. One of the soldiers on the ground grabbed my calf; and helped me up. I could feel Geralts eyes on us.

\---

The ride to Ortagor wasn’t long; but it felt like an eternity. I was deep in thought.

“How is my husband?”, Calanthe suddenly asked from beside me.  
She’d caught me off guard.  
“What?”, I said.  
She chuckled at me.  
“I said, how is my husband?”.  
I smiled.  
“Well, last I saw him. No less annoying, no more regal”, I said.  
“Good”, the queen laughed. “And his bed?”. Her eyes were suddenly hard.  
“Empty, save for him”, I assured her. She grunted, satisfied.

We rode on in silence for a little while.  
“And… the princess Pavetta. How does she fare?”, I asked as casually as I could.  
Calanthes face hardened slightly.  
“About to pop”, she said. “She’s going the way you came. Eist convinced me she should give birth in Skellige, for some reason”.  
I felt a rush of blood to my head.  
“Oh!”, I said. “I didn’t know. Congratulations!”.  
Calanthe scoffed. I tried to smile.  
“And the father is?...”.  
“Not who I would have picked”, she snarled. “But... no matter now. The child will be loved and raised by the right people”.  
I smiled and nodded; wanting to scream.

We arrived at the fortress of Ortagor to great fanfare; the crowds cheering for their queen. All around people were celebrating the arrival of the Great Lioness; with drink and music.  
Great, I thought. Another feast. Just what I needed. I was in no mood for any celebrations myself.

We unsaddled, and followed the queen towards the great hall. I suddenly felt a tug on my arm.  
Geralt was looking at me with hard eyes.  
“Little frog…”, he said.  
“Not now”, I stopped him, and pulled my arm from his grasp.

“Witcher!”, Calanthe called from behind us. “Lady Y/N is perfectly safe within these walls. We have no need for you. Go do whatever it is, your kind do”.  
Geralt clenched his jaw.  
“My kind eat, drink and rest when we can”, he said.  
She looked at him dismissively.  
“You can do that at the other end of the hall; where I don’t have to look at you”, she said. “Come, girl. We have feasting to do!”.

I followed the queen into the hall – having much rather wanted to find a dark corner to calm myself.  
As the door opened; horns blazed a salute.  
“Yes, yes. Fuck off. I’m here now”, Calanthe growled, and threw her helmet at a servant. “Music!”.

A familiar voice began a song I had heard before.

“Once a lady from Kaer Trolde fared,  
with skin so smooth, and beautiful hair.  
She held the heart of many a man;  
but mouths stood agape, when she speaking began.”  
Jaskier!

“Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me  
And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee.  
Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea  
And I shall be ever a servant of thee”  
The crowd sang along to the chorus.

“The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles  
The foulmouthed princess,  
the foulmouthed princess,  
the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles!”  
Jaskier strummed the last chord to a roar of applause. He bowed and sent air kisses to a buxom redhaired girl standing nearby.

I sat down next to Calanthe at the head table; and soon food and drinks were placed in front of us.  
Catching Jaskiers eye; he rushed over.  
“Your majesty”, he said; and bowed so deep his nose was almost touching the floor. “My lady Y/N!”.  
“You know each other?”, Calanthe asked.  
I cleared my throat cautiously.  
“We met in Skellige”.  
Calanthe grinned.  
“No…”, she laughed. “You’re the foulbreathed princess?”.  
“Foulmouthed, your majesty”, Jaskier smiled. “I’m quite certain there’s nothing wrong with the lady’s breath”.  
I chuckled nervously.  
“My lady, where is…”, he began.  
“The witcher”, I interrupted, sending him a poignant look. “He is somewhere in the hall; probably buried in some servant girl’s cleavage”.  
Jaskier narrowed his eyes.  
“As he does…”, he said.

Calanthe threw a gold coin at the bard.  
“Go. Do your work, minstrel. I want music and cheering. It’s been a long day”.  
Jaskier bowed.  
“As you wish your majesty”. He sent me a final look, and went back to the makeshift stage in the middle of the room, to play for the dancing crowds.

“So”, Calanthe said, smiling at me. “You’re on your way to Foltest, I’m told”.  
“I am”, I replied.  
“You seem… less than pleased”, she continued.  
I sighed.  
“Am I supposed to be pleased to be shipped of to a man twice my age? – with an inbred daughter to boot…”, I said; and took a sip from the goblet in front of me.  
Calanthe tightened her lips.  
“Temeria is not much different than Skellige”, she said. “Less water surrounding it… The winters are cold as a witch’s tit, but the summers are bearable”.  
I scoffed.  
“It’s not the weather that concerns me”.

Realizing the quail in front of me had been served without utensils for carving it; I pulled my knife from my boot, and cut in to the bird – ravished from the last few days lack of real food.

Calanthe smirked.  
“Travelling with the witcher has made you rough, Y/N”.  
I looked down at my dirty nails; realizing she was right.  
“I told Eist to get you your sgian-dubh for your 15’th birthday”.  
Calanthe and Eist had been sending each other eyes for years before they were married in a small ceremony, I’d heard very little about. She’d visited for my coming of age celebration years before – mostly, I think, to see my cousin.  
“He wanted to give you a new dress”.  
I laughed out loud.  
“Of course he did”, I said.  
“Yes, well”, she continued. “I would have gotten one for Pavetta, but apparently that is cultural appropriation”, she sneered. I held my tongue.

She looked at me solemnly.  
“He cares for you deeply, Y/N. I know this isn’t the union you’d dreamt of… but it is the right move”.  
“For your war?”, I said hesitantly, careful not to look the lioness in the eyes – admittedly, she scared me, and for good reason.  
“It’s true”, Calanthe admitted. “Foltest has promised his help in the war effort, in return for his marriage to you; and the dowry you bring with you”.

We were quiet for a while.  
“The witcher”, the queen began again. “He protects you well?”.  
I half smiled.  
“He does”, I said. She took a long sip from her goblet.  
“And in bed?”  
My face turned white.  
“I-i… that’s not…”, I tried.  
“Come now, Y/N”, Calanthe smirked. “I’ve seen how he looks at you”.  
“And how’s that?”, I said; trying for dismissive.  
“Like you’re a freshly cooked rabbit; and he hasn’t eaten in a week. Reminds me of how Eist would look at me, before he had me the first time”.  
She smirked, and took a bite of her quail.  
“More like a frog”, I muttered.  
“What’s that?”, she asked.  
“Nothing”, I answered.

She leant back in her chair, and looked at me seriously.  
“He’s not a good man, Y/N”, she said.  
”I’m beginning to see that”, I answered.

We ate the rest of our meal in silence; only interrupted by the occasional lord coming forward to wish health on my upcoming marriage. I wanted to stab each and everyone of them in the neck.

\---

A guard was posted outside the room I had been given for the night. It was larger than the one Geralt and I had shared in Tigg, and much grander in its decorations.  
A large bed with beautifully embroidered bedding; rich carpets decorated the walls and floor; a table set with fruits and wine; a roaring fireplace, and – thank the gods – a warm bath in front of it.

I shed my dirty clothes, and stepped into the tub; lowering myself into the water, until only my face was above the surface.  
For the first time in days – weeks – I was alone. And I cried.  
I wept so long that it felt like there were no tears left in the world. My chest hurt from the contractions of my sobbing; and I was beginning to struggle for breath in the end.

I heard a skirmish outside the door. Someone was banging loudly at it.  
“You can’t go in. The lady is not to be disturbed!”.  
“She’s in my charge, and I’ll see her!”. I recognized Geralts voice.

I stepped out of the tub, and put on the clean robe that had been warming by the fire.  
Opening the door, I saw Geralt pressing his lower arm against the neck of the guard; forcing him against the wall. Two other guards were holding their swords to his back.

“It’s fine”, I said. “Let him in”.  
“But my lady; Queen Calanthe made it perfectly clear…”, the man against the wall said.  
“Fuck off, dingleberry”, I growled; earning a gasp from all three guards.  
Geralt removed his arm from the man, and the three guards slowly stepped back.  
“Foulmouthed princess, indeed…”, I heard one of them mumble, as they walked away.

I stepped aside for Geralt to enter the room. He looked around; as always ready for an attack from any corner. They’d taken his weapons and armor, it seemed; as he was left with only his plain clothes.  
“The bathwater is cold”, I said; and sat down by the table. Geralt grunted and went to stand by the fire.

“I heard you cry”, he said.  
“From where?”, I asked.  
“From the courtyard”.  
I covered my face in embarrassment.  
“No one else heard you”, he said.  
“Right…”, I mumbled; remembering his enhanced hearing.

Geralt went to take my hand; and examined my face.  
“What’s wrong?”, he asked.  
I pulled my hand away from him furiously.  
“A 15 year-old girl, Geralt”, I snarled. “How could you?”.  
He looked genuinely confused.  
“The child!”, I said. “And here I thought witchers couldn’t procreate”.  
“We can’t…”, he grumbled.

I stood up, and threw an apple into the fireplace; cracking it against the back wall. The juices dripped down, and made the fire sputter.  
“Then, why…”, I growled, punching him as hard as I could in the chest; “… is princess Pavetta on her way to Skellige to give birth to your child?”.

His face went from confused, to relieved – to finally; angry.  
“You think I would get a girl pregnant, and then just leave her? A princess, no less?”, he scoffed. “Do you not know me?”  
“No!”, I yelled. “I don’t know you. At all!”.  
He took a step backwards.  
“No”, he said. “It seems you don’t”.  
He walked towards the door.  
“We leave in the morning. Your husband will want to see you soon”.

I lost all composure. Picking up the entire bowl of fruit from the table; I threw it at his back; grapes, oranges, plums and apples splattering across his shirt. And then I screamed.

Geralt growled, and sped at me; grabbing my shoulders, and throwing me on the bed.  
I clawed at his face – doing my best to scratch him – but he held my wrists down.  
“Stop!”, he roared  
“Go to Hel!”, I screamed.  
“You can go right along with me, woman!”, he answered.

I wrestled myself free from his grasp and struck at his head. He narrowly avoided my hand by rolling onto his back; and I straddled him – once again getting my wrists caught in his grasp.

Suddenly the door opened, and the three guards were standing in the opening.  
“My lady!...”, one of them called.  
“Get the fuck out!”, Geralt and I roared at the same time; staring at the dumbstruck men.  
They silently closed the door.  
“Bloody crazy, that one”, I heard one of them say through the door, as they walked away.

I got off Geralt; and laid on my back next to him.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”, I said.  
“There’s nothing to tell”, he answered.  
“But you have a child on the way with another woman!”, I half whimpered.  
“And you are marrying another man!”, he grunted.  
I sat up and shook my head in exhaustion.  
“I never wanted to marry him!”, I said.  
“And I never wanted a child”, he muttered.  
I stood up, picked up an orange from the floor, and threw it at him. He sat up, and looked at me angrily.  
“Would you stop throwing fruit at me?”, he snarled.

I scoffed.  
“You never wanted a child”, I hissed. “Maybe you should have thought of that, before you stuck your dick in the 15 year-old lion-cub of Cintra!”.  
“I didn’t!”, he roared, making me jump. “It’s a child of surprise!”.

He walked over to me slowly; prepared for more flying fruit.  
“It was an accident”, he said. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, and neither did the father when I asked him for the law of surprise. I thought it would earn me a keg of ale at the most”.  
I laughed, and shook my head.  
“A keg of ale?”, I said. “You stupid man…”.

He put his hands on either side of my face.  
“Yes. Stupid enough to fall for a woman, who by rights belongs to someone else”. He put his forehead to mine. “Stupid enough to want your heart, when I know it’s not mine to have”.

I put my hands on his chest; and grabbed at the fabric of his shirt.  
“What are we doing, Geralt?”, I whimpered.  
“Everything wrong, it seems”, he groaned.

He pulled back from me; holding on to my shoulders; and boring his amber eyes into mine.  
“I can’t help it, little frog”, he said. “You said you didn’t want to be a part of someone else. But you are. You’ve shaped me; and I’ve shaped you. It’s unavoidable”.  
A single tear fell from my eyes.  
“But it doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself; or I myself”, he continued. “It only means that we... change”.  
I sniffled – embarrassed at my own reaction to his words.  
“But you said you don’t change…”  
He smiled.  
“I have changed. You’ve been a part of that change”, he breathed. “You wrote your name on my life, as I have written mine on yours. No matter where I travel and who I meet; you have made your mark on me.  
We aren’t an entity; but we are two of a whole”.

I put my hands on either side of his face; and laughed through my tears.  
“Please stop crying”, he said.  
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”, I sniveled.  
“Yes”, he admitted.  
I laughed out loud.  
“For someone so uneasy with human emotion, you do have a way with words”, I said.  
“Only for you, my lady”, he whispered; and kissed my lips.

\---

We made love softly that night; taking care to not leave an inch of the other untouched.  
Geralts lips were the nourishment of my being, it seemed; and he let those lips touch every part of me that would bring me pleasure – seemingly finding pleasure himself, in nothing but the moans and whimpers he could draw from me.  
I came undone so many times I lost count, and the witcher came along with me. We were two of a whole.

When morning came; we hadn’t gotten much sleep – but for some reason, I’d never felt more awake.  
I knew what needed to happen. I knew that we would continue on our journey to Temeria; that I would marry Foltest; and that it would break both of our hearts when I did. There was nothing else that could be done.

I could not spend the rest of my life travelling with this man. I’d grow old, and he wouldn’t. I couldn’t be chasing monsters around the continent; when I was old and grey, and my bones were creaking.  
He could not give me children. Not that I was sure I wanted any; but our lives together would never be truly fulfilled – and his job never truly done.

We had each other now. And should we never see one another again; the marks we’d left on the others being would never be erased.

Geralts head was resting on my chest, and I was running my fingers through his hair; when there was a knock at the door.  
“Come in, Jaskier”, I called – quickly covering myself with the sheets.

The bard stepped inside; almost tripping over a plum. He looked around the room – stray fruit scattered across the floor.  
“Well”, he smirked. “Nothings changed here; I see”. He sat down by the table; pouring himself a goblet of wine.  
“So… when do we leave?”.

Geralt and me both looked at him with wonder.  
“Whose wife did you diddle this time?”, Geralt grumbled; laying back in the bed with his arms behind his head. I chuckled.  
“Uhm, sister; actually”, Jaskier replied; and took a sip of the wine. “Mmm! 1249; good year”.  
“Jaskier?...”, Geralt demanded.  
“Some lord, or another”, the bard said dismissively. “Apparently Jas… Jel… Jissanya, it was. Well, she’d been promised to Aretuza”. He looked at me apologetically. “They are quite fond of their virgins there. But I can tell you right now; that girl was not a maiden!”.

“Hels ass, Jaskier. Are you insistent on getting yourself killed before the end of the year?”, I chuckled at him.  
He stood up, looked at me; hurt in his eyes.  
“What if I told you it was true love?”, he said. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, you’re right. It would never work”, he chuckled.

I went to get out of bed, and gestured for him to turn around.  
“What?”, he shrugged.  
Geralt sat up and looked at him menacingly.  
“All right, all right. It’s not like any of you have anything I haven’t seen before – right, Geralt?”, the bard smirked; and covered his eyes with his hands.  
“I don’t want to know what that means”, I mumbled, and went to get dressed behind a divider in the corner.

\---

We were met in the courtyard by Calanthe and her men from the day before.  
“Lady Y/N”, the queen said. “I hear there was trouble in your room last night”.  
My face reddened.  
“No trouble, your majesty”, I said. “Just… a discussion on our next move”.  
“Hmm…”, Calanthe frowned, looking from Geralt to me. “I trust you remember our conversation?”.  
I nodded and smiled.  
“I remember it well”, I said. “And I trust you, of anyone, will understand why I must live the life I choose, until I have to live the life I must”.  
Her face contracted into a smile for a second.  
“I do, my dear”. She sighed. “I just wish you hadn’t chosen as you have”.  
I smiled again.

“Thank you for your kind hospitality, your majesty”, I said.  
“And thank you for sacrifice”, she answered. “This is my war; but part of the burden of it has fallen upon you. If I could, I would undo it”. She looked at me earnestly; and then held my face in her hands; putting her forehead to mine.  
“If Foltest ever… should he ever be cruel to you; I will come up there; and I will rip his cock of with my bare hands”.  
I laughed.  
“I might take you up on that offer”.  
She chuckled, and kissed my forehead.  
“Be well, cousin”, she whispered.

Jaskier cleared his throat.  
“I am very sorry to disturb this special moment, your majesty, but I think one of the lords in there has an arrow with my name on it”.  
Geralt grunted.

“Witcher”, Calanthe said, letting go of me. “You will protect this woman with your life”.  
“You have my word”, Geralt said, and nodded at her.  
She narrowed her eyes at him.  
”And go north. There are Nilfgaardian outposts further east”.  
Geralt frowned, and nodded again.  
“All right”, she said. “Now fuck off, all of you”.

We saddled up; Geralt and me on Roach; and Jaskier on – a quite unhappy – Bayrd.

On our way out the gates; I turned to the bard.  
“Jaskier; do you like my mushroom stew?”

He didn’t answer.

\---


	9. Chapter 9

9

After a few days moving north – having followed Calanthes advice – we found ourselves; at Jaskier insistence; at a tavern in a village, by the river of Yaruga. We’d paid our way onto a boat the following morning; that would take us to Brugge; a vassal state north of Cintra.

Enjoying a meal and drinks; I was in a good mood.  
“The one who sings. So, you named your horse after me?”, Jaskier smiled. “That’s such an honor!”.

I laughed.  
“Actually, I named it for a young poet; who was hexed by a succubus”, I said.

Geralt chuckled next to me, and squeezed my hand.  
“That sounds like a story!”, Jaskier proclaimed, and pulled out his small notebook. “Tell me!”.

I bit my cheek from laughing.  
“He was cursed to walk the meadows; gathering flowers for her; and writing her songs”, I smiled.  
“He made lovely little frames with pressed flowers and plants”, Geralt grumbled with a smirk.  
Jaskier’s eyes lit up.  
“Oh, this is great! Tell me more…”.

Geralt stood up.  
“Storytime is over. Time to rest”, he grunted.  
Jaskier nodded and smiled.  
“Yes, I supposed you two need to go… rest; now”, he said, and wiggled his brows.

It was true. Having ridden for 3 days with the bard tagging along, Geralt and I had not had much time alone. A fact, I’d noted, that had made Geralt even more broody than usual.

With a hand on my lower back; the witcher led me towards one of the small rooms we’d rented for the night.  
“Right”, Jaskier called to our backs as we walked away. “I’ll just stay here… and drink… alone”.  
“Keep it dry, Jaskier”, I called back. “We don’t want to get chased out of town, with pitchforks to our backs”.  
Geralt stifled a laughter next to me.

Closing the door to the small room behind me; I suddenly found myself pushed against it – a very determined witcher attached to my lips.  
“I thought you’d never finish eating”, he growled; untying my jerkin on the sides; and pulling it over my head. He shoved his knee between my legs; and his hands found my breasts under my shirt – massaging them, and stroking his thumbs over my nipples. “I’ve missed these”, he growled against my neck.

I scratched my nails down his back – frustrated from the lack of access to his skin, through his clothes.  
“What else did you miss?”, I breathed.  
He took a hold of my ass; and squeezed it tightly – surely leaving marks.  
“This…”, he groaned; before moving his hands to my hips; “… and the way your face looks when I make you do this…”.

I gasped; as he pressed down on my hips – holding me firmly to his muscled thigh – moving me back and forth; so that I was riding it.  
The friction instantly sent sparks through my body; and I felt a blissful expression spread across my face.  
“There it is”, Geralt smirked; before he leant in to whisper in my ear. “I’m going to make you come like this, little frog. Then, I’m going to take your clothes of; so that I can look at you while I fuck you”.  
My breath hitched. Geralt groaned; and continued rubbing me back and forth on his thigh; making me completely lose my footing on the floor, from my legs shaking.  
“I’ve got you”, he chuckled. “You’re not going anywhere”.

I threw my arms around his neck; holding on to him, as my moaning began to turn in to mewls.  
“Geralt… I can’t…”, I tried.  
“Yes you can. Let go. I’ve got you”.

He rubbed me back and forth faster; pressing me down even harder.  
I felt a strange frustration towards the lack of skin to skin contact; but it was soon replaced by a state of utter ecstasy; as the building ball of fire from my core exploded, and I saw stars.  
I dug my face into Geralts shoulder; and cried out.

My legs gave in; and Geralt caught me in his arms; removing his thigh from between my legs.  
“Good girl”, he breathed as he held on to me; still hanging from his neck. “Can you stand?”.  
I nodded slightly; and removed my arms from his neck; allowing him to remove my shirt.  
He exhaled deeply from the sight of my bare chest.  
“Something caught your eye?”, I smiled; as I shakingly began unbuttoning my breeches, and sliding them down my legs; removing both them and my boots at once.

Standing naked in front of Geralt; his eyes became fierce – hungry. It was like I was a freshly cooked rabbit, and he hadn’t eaten in a week.  
It made me chuckle.

I walked up to him, and began playing with the fasteners on his jerkin; making it clear that I wanted it off. He rid himself of it and his shirt; allowing me the view of his broad chest.  
I looked at him through my lashes, and ran my fingertips down his torso; taking care to trace his nipples as I passed them.  
His eyes were fiery as he watched me with bated breath.

Letting one finger slide down his stomach; I stopped by the top of his breeches; hooking a finger into the waistband, and pulling him towards the bed.  
I sat down on the edge of the mattress, and kissed him just below his bellybutton; before I began unbuttoning his breeches; that had grown quite tight in the front  
“That much?”, I smirked, and put my hand to his hardness over the fabric.  
I kissed his stomach again, and began tugging at his breeches; putting my open lips on his member over his pants.

Suddenly; Geralt pushed me down on the mattress; and pulled his cock out of its confines.  
“No more teasing”, he growled, and lowered himself over me; licking once over my folds; before placing himself between my legs; and sinking in to me with a groan.  
“Fuck, woman”, he hissed. “Have you grown tighter?”.  
I moaned.  
“Maybe you’ve just grown larger from having waited so long”, I chuckled.  
He pushed into me again, with another loud groan.

A while later; I fell asleep draped across his chest – a satisfied smile on both our lips.

\---

We were slowly waking in each other’s arms, when – to no surprise – there was a banging on the door.

Geralt groaned angrily.  
“And you said you didn’t want children”, I chuckled.

“Geralt, we’re late for the boat!”, Jaskier called.  
“Shit!”, Geralt snarled; and we both tumbled out of bed to get dressed – almost getting our shirts mixed up in the procedure.

The boat transporting us was even smaller than the one that had taken us from Skellige; but we managed to fit both horses onto it – with Geralt standing between them, sending Bayrd wary eyes. The horse whinnied softly.  
“Don’t. Even. Think about it”, the witcher snarled.  
“Be nice to Bayrd”, I said.  
“I will, when he stops looking at Roach like a bale of hay he wants to dig in to”.  
I chuckled, and walked up to stand next to my stallion.  
“Be a good boy, Bayrd”, I whispered; and patted his neck.

Within a short while, we made land just outside Dillingen.  
“Why didn’t we just take the bridge?” I asked Geralt.  
“Patrols”, he answered shortly.

We rode east of Dillingen; avoiding the city completely.  
“We need to avoid large groups of people from here on”, Geralt grumbled. “Zaba. Remember?”.  
I nodded behind his back.  
“Yes. But we’re out of the way of Lyria now; what should I say if anyone asks?”.  
He seemed to ponder my words.  
“The truth. As much as you can”, he answered. “You’re on your way to Vizima, with your brother, Jaskier; who is performing at the upcoming wedding between Foltest and the lady Y/N”.  
Jaskier looked at him sincerely.  
“I don’t think anyone is going to believe that; Geralt. The lady doesn’t look a thing like me”.  
“Her name is Zaba. And… fine, she’s your… fiancée”.  
“That’s going to cramp my style”, Jaskier mumbled.

Geralt sighed.  
“We need to re-saddle. For appearances sake”.  
He got of Roach, and helped me down.  
“Move”, he said to Jaskier; gesturing for him to move backwards in Bayrd’s saddle.  
With a swift move; Geralt lifted me by the waist, and put me in front of Jaskier; my back to his chest.  
Jaskier grunted slightly  
“Should have cleaned the pipes…”, he mumbled.  
“What’s that?”, Geralt snarled.  
“Nothing!”, Jaskier answered; voice pitched.  
Geralt saddled back up on Roach.  
“You know he has superhuman hearing, right?”, I whispered smilingly to the bard.  
“Shit”, he replied.

Geralt looked back at us.  
“Jaskier, hold on to her; or you’ll fall of”, he grumbled.  
“I know how to ride a horse, Geralt”, Jaskier sneered.  
“Not as well as she does”, the witcher replied.

“Horse or whores, Jaskier?”, I smirked.  
“Ha, ha. Aren’t you just funny”, Jaskier snorted, and put his hands on my waist; leaving me to hold the reins.

“Let’s go”, Geralt growled, and led us north.

We made good time through the countryside; getting further, faster than we had in the last days. I suspected it was because I was on now Bayrds back, and the one leading him forward, instead of Jaskier. I was most definitely a better rider than the bard – who was clambering on to my waist, like his life depended on it.  
We were riding hard.

“Can we slow down?”, the bard cried out behind me, as we were descending down a hill.  
“No”, Geralt replied shortly. “This isn’t a good place for a rest”.  
“Bollocks”, Jaskier complained behind me, before yelping. “Or, at this point, lack thereof…”.

I sighed.  
“Geralt, the horses need a rest”, I called to the witcher. “I need a rest”.  
Geralt slowed down, and let me ride up along side him.  
“This area isn’t safe”, he grumbled; scouting into the distance.  
I shook my head.  
“Brugge is a vasal of Cintra. Won’t it be safe enough to make camp; just a couple of hours?”.  
Geralt looked at me with sympathetic eyes.  
“We can rest in the village of Kernow”, he said. “It’s just a few hours northeast of here”.  
I frowned.  
“But you said…”.  
“It’s a small village. Just an inn and the occasional travelling merchant. It’ll be fine”.  
“An inn?”. Jaskier sounded elated. “Well I think we can make it a few more hours; Zaba, my love”.  
He patted my hip; but quickly moved his hand when he saw Geralts expression.  
“Right. Let’s go”, he croaked.

\---

Kernow was as small as Geralt had said. A few tiny cottages were strewn about; clearly having been raised wherever it made sense for the inhabitants to build them.  
A plump peasant girl was milking a goat when we strode in to town; sending a leering look at Jaskier behind me.  
“Hello”, I heard him smile.  
I elbowed him in the ribs.  
“Darling!”, I cried out.  
“Yes, dear”, Jaskier coughed.

We hitched the horses under a half roof by the small inn. The air smelled like freshly roasted chicken and good ale; and my mouth was watering from the thought of it.  
Geralt seemed to want to reach for my hand; but remembered himself; and stepped in front of us, to enter the small building.

A few farmers were sat around tables by the walls. A man with a scar across his face; nodded knowingly at Geralt, and lifted his mug slightly in greeting. Geralt nodded back at the man.  
I looked at him questioningly.  
“Harpy”, Geralt muttered. “It was stealing his sheep”.  
“That’s how you know of this place. You had a contract here”, I said quietly.  
Geralt grunted.  
“Not exactly”, he said. “Contracts mean coin. He had none to give”.  
I gasped in jest.  
“Did the White Wolf actually do someone a favor, without asking anything in return?”, I jeered.  
He looked at me from the corner of his eye.  
“I did you four favors last night”.  
I smirked.  
“I seem to remember giving you a couple in return”.  
He stifled a grin.

We walked up to the table that was serving as a bar; and ordered drinks and food.  
The barman looked at Jaskier and his lute.  
“None of the people here have much coin to spare, good bard”, he said. “You’re welcome to sing; but don’t expect much pay”.  
Jaskier frowned.  
“I suppose my lute can rest for the night”, he said.  
“Suit yourself. No skin of my back”, the barman replied.  
“Dodged an arrow there”, Geralt muttered; and I bit my cheek not to laugh.

“Geralt of Rivia!”, someone called out.  
Turning to face the man; my face instantly lit up. Mousesack!  
“The White Wolf! How are you, old friend?”, Mousesack cried out, taking the witchers hand, and patting his shoulder; before looking at me. “And…”.  
“Zaba!”, Jaskier interrupted him. “My… lovely fiancée”.  
Mousesack sent me a knowing look, before letting his eyes fall to the pendant hanging from my neck.  
“Well, bard; you’ve certainly played over the rim”, he said.  
“Ah, yes”, Jaskier smiled uncomfortably; and put his arm around my shoulder; pulling me in for an awkward half hug. ”She’s the bane of my existence, this one…”.  
I slapped his cheek in jest; and put my head on his shoulder.  
“Oh, Jasky…”, I chirped.  
Geralt looked ready to throttle the bard.  
“I’m sure she is”, the wizard mumbled. “Come, join me for a drink!”.

We sat down at a table in the darkest corner we could find.  
“How did you get here, Mousesack?”, Geralt asked. “Last we heard, you were on your way to Tigg”.  
Mousesack nodded, and took a swig of his ale.  
“And I arrived there shortly after you left, it seemed”, he said. “I found Jaskier here balls deep in one of Coodcoodlaks servant girls; and he told me you’d left that morning”.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’d seen him?”, I asked Jaskier, and punched his shoulder.  
“Ow!”, he said. “I didn’t know it was important!”.  
Mousesack smiled.  
“It’s not his fault. I didn’t tell him I needed to see you”.  
So Mirtha had been right. Mousesack had been searching for me.

Geralt groaned.  
“I knew your next move would be north; as east is crawling with Nilfgaardian patrols”, the wizard said.  
“Yes, but how did you get here so soon?”, Geralt asked. “You can’t fly…”.  
“I can make portals”, Mousesack answered. Geralt groaned, looking suddenly sick to his stomach.

I took a large swig at my own ale.  
“We went through Birxen”, I said with a low voice. “Met a butcher and his wife who said you were looking for me”.  
Mousesacks eyes were suddenly serious.  
“I was, my lady”.  
“Zaba”, Geralt corrected him.  
“Zaba, yes”, Mousesack smiled. He seemed deep in thought for a moment.  
“Ermion…”, I pleaded. “What is it you need to tell me”.

Mousesack sighed; pulling himself back into the moment.  
“First, tell me how much you know about your upcoming union, and how it came to be”.  
I clenched my jaw.  
“I’m supposed to marry Foltest; to make sure he supports Calanthes war against Nilfgaard”, I said, and took a bite of a chicken leg. I sucked my fingers; and looked up at the wizard. “Calanthe already told me I’ve become rough; you don’t have to remind me”.

Mousesack smiled softly.  
“You’ve always been rough around the edges, girl. Lucky for you, you’re also intelligent and strong”, he said. “You’ll make a good queen”.  
I rolled my eyes.  
“What else do you know?”, he asked.

I sighed.  
“I know that I’m supposed to be a good wife…”, I sneered. “And steer clear of anything that might seem too… witchy”. I sent a look towards Geralt who smirked back.  
Mousesack narrowed his eyes.  
“Eist told you to leave behind your vöelve training?”, he asked.  
“No”, I said, wiping my hands in a piece cloth serving as a napkin. “Thrude did”.

The wizards face contracted into an unreadable expression.  
“How is Thrude?”  
Geralt sent him a knowing look. It was almost sympathetic.  
“She was well a few weeks ago”, I answered.  
“Good”, Mousesack said quietly. “So, you know nothing else?”.  
I shook my head tiredly.  
“No. Just that Geralt is to bring me to Foltest”, I said, my voice hitching slightly.

Mousesack looked from me to the witcher, and back again.  
“Fucking Eist…”, he growled. “Always bloody secrets. You’d think he’d learnt something from the situation with his stepdaughter”. Geralt grunted.  
“Mousesack”, I demanded. “What’s going on?”.

He sighed.  
“Nilfgaard wants you”.  
I scoffed.  
“Yes, I know. They want to stop my marriage to Foltest, so he won’t support Cintra”.  
“It’s more than that, little one”, Mousesack said. “The Usurper wants you for himself. To marry”.

I laughed out loud.  
“Well, aren’t I the popular one…”.  
Mousesack looked at me poignantly.  
“You are”, he said. “Girl, you have not even begun to scratch the surface of what you can do as a sorceress”.

Geralts face dropped; and Jaskier choked on the sip he had just taken from his mug.

“I’m not a sorceress!”, I said.  
“No, you’re not. Thrude saw to that; at Eists bequest”.  
I was finding it difficult to breathe.  
“Thrude… has been there since my birth. She trained me as a vöelve…”.

“She was teaching you to control your powers”, the wizard interrupted. Geralts face was hard, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.  
“You knew?”, I scoffed.  
“I didn’t know, little frog… but I suspected there was something”, he grunted. “I’ve told you as much”.

Mousesack took my hand.  
“Thrude saw your potential from the moment you opened your eyes, and looked at her”, he said. “She also saw that you’d need help to control that potential, as you would be…”.  
“Rash. Stubborn…”, Geralt said.  
“A pain in the arse”, Jaskier said. I kicked his shin under the table.

“You could be dangerous. To yourself and to others”, Mousesack said quietly. “Eist wanted to protect you. He didn’t want you in Aretuza. And he didn’t want you in the hands of someone even worse”.

“Nilfgaard”, I whispered. Mousesack nodded.  
“The Usurper wants you. Marrying you; he would potentially have a strong sorceress at his side. And – of course – through his blood bond to you, Eist would be forced to halt his support of his wife; and stay neutral in the war. Calanthe would lose both Temeria and Skellige”.  
The wizards eyes bore into mine.  
“Innocents would die; and you’d be forced into servitude of a man, who’s much more brute and evil than you can comprehend”.

“I could have just not married anyone”, I grumbled.  
Mousesack chuckled quietly.  
“That was never an option, my dear”, he said. “It is your destiny to become a queen; it was written in your stars… I’ve seen it myself”.  
I frowned.  
“To Hel with destiny”, I snarled.  
Geralt snorted.  
“I wish it was that easy”, Mousesack said. “I came to find you, to make sure you’d understand the importance of this union. You must be queen; but you can’t be queen of Nilfgaard. They would use you in ways, where you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself afterwards”.

Mousesack put a hand on my cheek, and looked down at my chest.  
“Thrudes mother gave her that on our wedding night”.  
My chin dropped.  
“What?”, I breathed. “Thrudes husband is dead…”.  
Mousesack smiled sadly.  
“No I’m not”, he said. “But…”.  
“But you left her”, I interrupted. “She loved you, and you left her”.

Mousesack let go of my hand, shaking his head.  
“No”, he said softly. “She loved me, and I loved her. But I had to leave for Ban Ard. I needed to learn how to control the chaos in me. So, I became a sorcerer”.  
My heart dropped.  
“Wizards halt their aging…”, I said quietly.  
“And vöelves don’t”, he half smiled.  
I frowned.  
“So you didn’t want her because she’d grow old?”.  
“I’d have her old; gray, deaf and blind”, he chuckled. “Those last two might actually make our relationship easier”.  
I heard Jaskier sniffle next to me.

Geralt took my hand under the table.

“Thrude told me to go to Ban Ard; and when I came back for her, she sent me away”. Mousesack looked down at his hands. “I loved her with every inch of my being; and I think I always will. But she saw a different future for me… and for herself”. He took my hand again, and looked at me.

Tears welled into my eyes.  
“Mousie and Tootie. I never knew”.  
He smiled.  
“Not many did”. He sent Geralt a look.

“Well!”, Jaskier said; wiping his eyes. “I think this calls for a ballad”.  
Geralt groaned loudly, as Jaskier walked out on the floor, and began playing.

“The fairer sex, they often call it;  
but her love’s as unfair as a crook.  
It steals all my reason;  
commits every treason,  
of logic, with naught but a look…”  
Mousesack kissed my hand.  
“Y/N”, he whispered. “Queen of Temeria. I find it difficult to wish health upon your marriage; not because I don’t want you to be happy; but because Foltest is a miserable old cunt, and I hate his guts”. He sighed. “But I wish love and happiness upon your life; regardless…”.  
He stood up to leave us.  
“I’m off to the Capital”. I stood up myself, and he embraced me; kissing the top of my head.  
“Will I see you again?”, I sniffled into his shoulder.  
He pulled back from me, and held my face in his hands.  
“I’ll make sure of it, your majesty”, he smiled; before looking at Geralt. “You two are about to break each other’s hearts; I hope you realize that”. Geralt looked down.

Mousesack kissed my forehead and both my cheeks; before walking out the door; leaving us behind.

“But the story is this;  
she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss.  
Her sweet kiss…”.  
\---

There were no rooms for let in the inn; so, we set up camp a few miles outside Kernow. Jaskier was sleeping soundly next to his lute; mumbling in his sleep. I grabbed a blanket from Bayrds saddle; and draped it over the snoring buffoon.

“You’ll be a good mother”, Geralt said. He was sitting on large rock; working on some herbs for one of his draughts.  
I chuckled.  
“Everyone seems to agree that Foltest is sweaty, old, and all round disagreeable. I’m going to try to avoid his bed as much as possible”, I said. I sat down next to him.  
“Needs more celandine”, I said, nodding at his bowl. Geralt raised a brow at me. “What? I’ve been looking while you’ve made this before”, I smiled.

He handed me the bowl, and I gently continued crushing the herbs he’d been working on. He got some celandine from his satchel; and added it to the mixture; letting me continue the task.  
“I was right about you being more than you thought”, he said.  
“I suppose so”, I said. “You won’t have to worry about me dabbling in magic anymore”.  
He exhaled deeply.  
“You’re still a human. You haven’t had any real training”, he muttered. “I don’t want you to get hurt”.

I sighed, handing the bowl back to him.  
“Thrude was always trying to get me to focus on herbs and animals”, I said. “I’ve never been able to see the future or the past – or cast spells…”.  
“There’s more to magic than spells”, he grunted. “Sometimes it’s just two creatures meeting, and reacting”. He was using my own words back at me.

He went to add the herbs into the boiling water over the fire.  
“We need to move northeast. If we continue north we’ll get to close to Brookilon Forest”, he said.  
“I doubt the dryads will give us safe passage…”, I grumbled.  
Geralt grunted in response.  
“It will bring us close to the City of Brugge, but…”.

He was interrupted my an arrow landing at his feet.

Geralt ran towards me; kicking Jaskier while passing him. The bard woke with a start; and barely avoided an arrow, by rolling over.

Geralt sprang at me; pushing me down on the ground; and laying himself on top of me to shield me.  
“Are you hit?”, he demanded. I shook my head fervently.

“Geralt…”, Jaskier called. He was laying on the ground with a knife to his neck; held by a slim woman, dressed in browns and greens.  
The witcher sniffed the air.  
“What are you doing so far west; Filavandrel?”.

A blonde tall man – who I recognized as an elf – stepped up to the fire.  
“There’s a war, witcher”, the elf answered. “We go where we must to further our cause”.  
Geralt grunted.  
“Get off the girl; you’re crushing her”, Filivandrel said.

Geralt rolled of me; and the elf gave me his hand to help me stand.  
“Who are you?”, he asked; his voice neither cold nor warm.  
I looked at Geralt; who looked to the ground, and stood up himself.  
“My name is Zaba”, I said as calmly as I could.  
The elf tilted his head.  
“You don’t look like a frog”, he said.

I straightened my back.  
“And who are you?”, I asked.  
Geralt went to stand next to me.  
“This is Filivandrel. The king of the elves”.

\---


	10. Chapter 10

10

Within seconds we were surrounded by elves on all sides. There were arrows pointed at us from all directions.

“My king!”, the woman holding down Jaskier said. “Do I cut him?”

Filivandrel turned to face her.  
“I don’t know yet”, he answered. “How is my lute treating you, bard?”.  
Jaskier was shaking from fear.  
“G-good, your majesty”, he stammered. “She’s wonderful. I’ve never played better!”.  
The elf crouched next to him.  
“I have heard of litigious and frivolous songs; not ones I had thought would be played on it”. Jaskier began stammering incoherently.  
“I should have you made a castrato”, the elf sneered, and the woman moved her knife to Jaskiers groin, pressing against the fabric.

“Filivandrel”, Geralt roared. “What is this about? Why are you here?”.  
Filivandrel patted the womans shoulder; and she got off Jaskier; who covered his precious gems for a second; before getting up, and running to stand behind Geralt.

“I am here to see the future queen of Temeria”, Filivandrel said. “I was told she would be travelling with you”.  
He looked at me.  
“But it seems all you have; is a frog”.  
Geralt pushed me behind him.  
“Could you have your people put their weapons down?”, he said calmly “We hold no threat”.

Filivandrels face turned angry.  
“You hold the same threat as every other human we cross”, he snarled. “You steal; and you kill; and you take what is not yours!”.  
Geralt bared his teeth.  
“What have we taken this time?”.

Filivandrel sat by our fire; and looked at Geralts boiling draught. He spat into the pot.  
“This was once elven land”, he said.  
“Everything was once elven land”, Geralt snarled. “We can’t change the past”.  
Filivandrel looked at him.  
“No”, he said. “But we can change the future”.

He turned his attention to me.  
“Come sit with me, frog”. The way he said frog was completely different from how Geralt used the word. The elfs way was dismissively; like that was what I was. A frog.

I stepped forward to do as he had told me; but Geralt grabbed my arm.  
“Let her go, witcher”, Filivandrel demanded calmly.  
I nodded to Geralt; and went to sit with the elven king.

“Did you know this?”, he asked. “Did you know that everything was once elven land?”.  
I nodded.  
“Yes, your majesty”, I said.  
Filivandrel frowned.  
“Do not call me majesty. A king must have land. Ours was stolen”, he said. “Call me Filivandrel”.  
“Filivandrel”, I repeated.  
“Good, frog”, he said.

He poked at the fire with an arrow.  
“I am looking for a woman. She is on her way to marry the king of Temeria”.  
“Oh?”, I said dismissively. “What do you want from her?”.  
He narrowed his eyes at me.  
“I am going to convince her to turn around. Move south. Join Nilfgaard”.  
I felt Geralts eyes on my back.  
“Why?”, I asked.

Filivandrel stood, and walked over to Bayrd.  
“Is this your horse, frog?”  
I nodded.  
“Come”, he said; and untied my stallion from the tree he was hitched by. I walked over to the elf; who saddled up, and reached for my hand. I took it, and – almost as quickly as Geralt would – he pulled me into the saddle behind him.

“Stay with them”, Filivandrel said; and a smaller group of the elves surrounded Geralt and Jaskier. “We will take their weapons for safe keeping”.  
“Filivandrel!”, Geralt roared.  
“Hold your tongue, mutant!”, the elf growled, before turning to his men. “And bring my lute”.

I heard Jaskier gasp; as Filivandrel kicked at Bayrd, and we rode away – leaving my lover and friend behind.

\---

We rode through the night; zigzagging. It was clear that the elves did not want me to be able to find my way back, should I try to escape.  
“Where are you taking me?”, I asked.  
“Somewhere safe”, Filivandrel answered; refusing to answer any more questions.

Soon after dawn, we arrived at a glade; bustling with movement. Elves, dwarves – and a few creatures I recognized from Thrudes stories as being sylvan – were training with their bows and knifes, and preparing food and leathers.  
There were tents made of skin; and I was brought into one of these tents by a pair of angry looking halflings; no taller than my hip. Filivandrel followed me into the tent.

“Do you have a weapon?”, he asked.  
I clenched my jaw, considering my next move.  
“On the horse. The sword”. I looked down, deciding. “And a knife, in my boot”.

One of the halflings snatched my sgian-dubh; and handed it to Filivandrel.  
He turned it over in his hands.  
“A Skelliger knife; but a nilfgaardian sword and horse”, he chuckled. “Careful, frog. You are looking more and more like an empress already”.  
He turned to the halflings.  
“Tie her up. Don’t hurt her”.  
He left them to their task.

I was tied to the pole in the middle of the tent; my hands behind my back. It felt like hours before a young – at least I thought she was young – elven woman stepped into the tent, with a bowl of water, and a cloth.  
“The king wants to know that you are comfortable”, she said without looking at me.  
“I’m tied up among strangers; whom I don’t know whether will kill me or sell me for coin”.  
The woman walked over to me, and began washing my face and neck.  
“It is not for me to say”.

The elven king stepped into the tent, carrying a small leather sack.  
“Is she well?”, he asked the woman.  
“She has questions, my lord”.  
He sighed, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
“Thank you, Ineolin. You can leave us now”.  
The woman nodded her head; and left the tent.

Filivandrel opened his sack, and pulled out an apple.  
“You must be hungry”, he said.  
“Well, you did spit in my dinner”, I sneered.  
“That was not your dinner, frog. That was stolen magic”, he replied calmly.  
I shook my head.  
“I don’t know what you are talking about. If I am here to be raped and tortured, get it over with, and send me back to my friends”.

Filivandrel looked almost disgusted.  
“I have no desire to lay with a filthy human”, he sneered. “Especially not one that is covered in muck from days of travelling”.  
“Then why – pray tell – the fuck am I here?”, I yelled.

Filivandrel dropped the apple on the ground in front of me.

“You have been promised to Foltest”, he said calmly. “But those plans have changed. I have promised you to Nilfgaard”.  
My breath hitched.  
“You don’t know what you are doing!”, I gasped. “What is your gain from helping Nilfgaard in their war?”.  
He half smiled, looking almost apologetic.  
“Peace. For my people”.  
I shook my head frantically.  
“There will be no peace with them. Only death and destruction”.

The elf crouched in front of me.  
“There is already death and destruction. This way; my people will have a fighting chance to survive in what is to come”.  
“Filivandrel…”, I tried.

“Do you want to marry Foltest?”, he asked dismissively. “I hear he’s old and ugly. This way, you will have a young husband; one who is strong, leads many men; and will give you children that will not have inbred family members”.  
I looked at him angrily.  
“I want to marry no one”, I said.

He went to leave the tent again.  
“Is that what... O’Dimm has offered you?”, I called after him, making him stop in his tracks. I’d been right. O’Dimm was a part of this. “That you will have peace? That your people will be allowed to roam free across the continent; without fear of being persecuted?”.  
He turned to look at me.

“It will never happen, Filivandrel…”, I said.

He crouched in front of me; and struck me hard across the face.  
“Your people – and the people they are allied with – burn our homes”, he spat at me. “They rape our women, and crush our children’s heads under their boots”.  
I clenched my jaw.  
“And for that they deserve nothing but contempt and punishment”, I said. “But Nilfgaard will not be different”.  
He shook his head.  
“You speak of what you do not know, woman…”.

I breathed deeply, and reminded myself that I was speaking to a king; whether he wanted me to call him one or not. And he was a king who seemed to care deeply for his people.  
“I speak of things I have never seen, but have been told to me”, I said. “I have lived my life sheltered in a Skelliger castle; surrounded by men who celebrated the death of your kind with the wine you made yourselves. I have heard stories of young elven women enslaved; raped until pregnancy; and then had their bellies slit, to remove the child that had been forced upon them”. Tears began running from my eyes.

Filivandrel fell into a seated position.  
“You have heard of these things; but never done anything about them”, he said quietly.  
“And what power did I have?”, I cried. “I have been shipped across the ocean to marry a man, not of my choosing; to possibly have him do the same to me… because he will own me. I have no right to anything of my own”.

The elf sighed.  
“So, we are not so different. We are both forced to do things we do not want”.  
I looked at the ground.  
“You don’t want to give me to O’Dimm…”.  
He shook his head.  
“It is what must be done”.

I looked at him poignantly.  
“Do you know why he wants me for Nilfgaard? For the Usurper?”.  
The elf looked me in the eyes.  
“He will force Cintras allies to retreat”.  
“Yes”, I smiled through my tears. “And he will have me. I have powers… ones that I do not know much about myself. I think they will use me to strengthen themselves…”.  
Filivandrel narrowed his eyes at me.  
“You’re a sorceress”, he sneered.  
“No”, I sniffeled. “I don’t know magic. But if it is forced upon me; I might do things… things I have no wish to speak of”.  
“And you would do them against your will?”.

“I would never…”, I sobbed. “I don’t want to be a part of something like that”. I sighed, and tried to calm myself.  
“The Usurper will never treat your people the same as he will humans. You will continue to be hunted and killed. But if you give me to him; he will have even more power to do so”.

The elf stood up.  
“If you are so dangerous to me – tell me – why should I not kill you now?”.

I sniveled hard; and wiped my face against my shoulder.  
“If that is your will; it is in your power to do so”, I said. “But burn my corpse, and send it to my homeland. I would rather be ashes strewn from the walls of Kaer Trolde; than a weapon against you, or anyone else”.

Filivandrel exhaled and looked down at me.  
This is a better end than I would have in Nilfgaard.  
I closed my eyes; and lifted my chin, to prepare for the king’s knife.  
There was a rustling; and when I opened them again, I was alone.

\---

I fell asleep against the pole; my body and mind drained from my meeting with Filivandrel.  
When I woke, the tent was dark and cold; as there had been made no fire for me.

After a while, the elven woman – Ineolin – came into the tent, carrying a knife.

“He’s asked you to kill me?”, I sneered.  
“No, human”, she answered indifferently. “He’s asked me to feed and clothe you”.  
She cut me lose from the pole; and finding my legs after having sat for so long, I followed her out of the tent, and towards a larger one; wherein two other women – one of them dwarven – were waiting.

“Undress”, the dwarf said.  
I didn’t have the stamina to argue; so, I did as I was told.  
The women began washing me; a very strange sensation, as I wasn’t used to anyone but Geralt touching my naked body. They were quick and proper about it, not lingering in any areas; and in the end I was as clean as I’d ever been.  
Wearing a towel around my body; I was sat on a stool; and the second elf began braiding my hair down my back. Even though it had only been a short time since I’d left Skellige, it felt like it had grown quite a bit.  
I ate bread and venison; and drank a whole pitcher of water.

Without noticing it; my clothes had been disposed of; and I was given new ones.  
Looking down myself; I was now wearing brown, close fitting, but much more flexible pants, than the ones I had received from Ajvid. They had leather patches on the knees; and were tied together on my hips, with leather string.  
There was a white shirt – woven closely for warmth; and another brown leather jerkin – this one more fitted for my frame, and laced in the front. The hem of the jerkin went almost to my knees; making it resemble a short dress.  
My grey cloak had appeared; and someone had stitched fur to the inside of it; to make it warmer.  
I realized I looked almost elven.

I thanked the women; and went to shake their hands; but none of them would touch me again.

Fully dressed, fed and clean; Ineolin led me out of the tent, and towards a large fire in the middle of the camp

Jaskier sat by the flames; cradling his – well, Filivandrels – lute.  
When he saw me, he gingerly put it to the ground, and ran up to embrace me. The bard had never hugged me before; but I welcomed the warm show of affection.  
“We thought we lost you!”, he said. “They had to tie Geralt down with three ropes to stop him from chasing after you”.  
I looked at him with fierce eyes.  
“Where is he?”.  
Jaskier nodded towards a large tree at the edge of the camp. Geralt and Filivandrel stood there in what seemed to be deep conversation.

It took everything in me not to run to the witcher; instead, I walked as fast and as graciously as I could.  
Before I made it within 30 yards of him; Geralt turned his head; having heard my approach.  
My breath hitched; and I almost began crying.  
Geralt had no grace in his approach to me. He ran up, and took me in his arms; almost lifting me from the ground.  
“Stupid woman”, he breathed into my ear. “You stupid, stupid woman!”.

“Witcher!”, Filivandrel called to us. “We are not done”.  
Geralt groaned.  
“Yes we are. We are leaving”.  
“Not without finishing our discussion!”, the elf said. “Put down the frog”.

Geralt released his hold on me and walked back to Filivandrel.  
“What do you want?”, he growled.  
“Your word”, the king said.  
Geralt grunted.  
“I have given you my word, Filivandrel. I will not speak of this place to anyone!”, he snarled.  
“Not yours, witcher”. He turned to me. “Hers”.  
Geralt looked at him, confused.  
“What do you mean?”

Filivandrel walked up to me; and stared into my eyes.

“You were never here”, he said. “You know nothing of our dealings with Nilfgaard… and you will never give yourself over to them”.  
I looked at him hard.  
“You have my word”; I said. He nodded.

“I apologize for striking you, queen frog”, the elf king said. “You gave over your weapons willingly; and you did not try to escape”. He sighed. “You cried for our children and women; and you told me stories... I wish you had not. I believe you are not an enemy of me or my people. I shall never call you friend… But whatever should happen; I will not call you a foe”.

I half smiled at him.  
“Thank you for your… hospitality”, I said.  
His eyes warmed, and he handed me my sgian dubh; which he’d held on to.  
“Be a strong queen, and remember the stories you told me. I hope they will guide you in your reign”.

We were led from the camp, without any attempts by the elves to disguise the way back. They – as I – knew that Geralt would easily be able to find it, if he so wished.  
I was sure that the camp would be gone in the morning.

\---

We stopped at the bottom of a hill the next afternoon. We hadn’t spoken much since we left Filivandrels camp; except for Jaskiers occasional nagging about his sore ass.  
He’d gone to tinkle; and left me and Geralt alone for a while.

The witcher looked solemn.  
“We need to move faster; we’ve already lost a full day”, he grumbled.  
“Yes”, I said, looking across the planes in front of us.  
“O’Dimm could still be near. Filivandrel saw him just a few days ago”, he continued.  
“You’re right”, I agreed.  
“We cannot take so many breaks”.  
“No”.

He went over and looked at my face.  
“What’s wrong?”, he asked; running his thumb gently over the bruise the elf king had left under my eye, when he struck me.  
“They hate us so much”, I said.  
“The elves…”, Geralt nodded.  
I looked at him.  
“And they have good reason for it”. My voice hitched. “I’ve always known… but to see them in front of me… just wanting to survive…”.

Geralt seemed unsure what to say.  
“Being hated… is easier when you don’t have to face the people who hate you”.  
I nodded.  
“Temeria or Nilfgaard…”, I continued, “… either way, the elves, the dwarves… all of them. They will continue to suffer”.

He put his arms around me.  
“I am not one for discussing the lesser evil”, he said. “But I think that what you are doing, is it. If you don’t marry Foltest; you will spend the rest of your life running from Nilfgaard, and their purpose for you. As a queen of Temeria, at least you can hope to make a difference”.

I put my arms around his waist; and pressed my face to his chest.  
“Run away with me”, I whispered.  
“Where would we go?”, he chuckled.  
“Back to Kaer Morhen”, I smiled. “You could kill monsters for the local villages; and we could raise a bushel of the children of surprise you’d demand in payment”.  
I heard the laughter come from deep within his chest; from where my ear was pressed against it.  
“There aren’t many villages around Kaer Morhen”, he chuckled. “And the castle is mostly ruins”.

I smiled; and looked up at him for a second, before letting my eyes hit the ground.  
“But would you?”, I asked quietly.  
He held me hard against him.  
“I would, little frog”, he whispered and kissed the top of my head. “I would”.

I sighed, and took a step back, releasing his grasp on me.  
“But Cintra would fall. And then the rest of the northern kingdoms. And Skellige…”.  
Geralt grunted and looked down.  
“We are going to Temeria”, I said. “You are walking me through the gates of Vizima; and you will hand me over to Foltest”.

He met my gaze tentatively  
“But I have you until then?”, he asked.  
I nodded.  
“And we’ll be written on each other’s lives after”, I smiled.

He took my face in his hands, and kissed me.

“Why did you call me stupid?”, I asked, narrowing my eyes.  
He clenched his jaw.  
“Filivandrel would not tell me what you spoke to him about”, he said. “Only what his plan had been. When I saw you almost unscathed and with new clothes, I thought…”.  
“You thought I’d agreed to it”, I said.  
“I didn’t know”.

I raised my eyebrows at him.  
“I’ll make you the same promise I made the elf king”, I said. “No matter what happens; I’ll never willingly go to Nilfgaard”.  
He grunted and nodded.

Jaskier came running down the hill then; still buttoning his breeches.  
“Geralt!”, he called. “Geralt, you need to see this!”.

Geralt turned to face the bard.  
“Stay here”, he growled to me; and began moving up the hill.  
“To Hel with that!”, I said, and followed.

\---


	11. Chapter 11

11

Geralt made it to the top of the hill and drew his sword, before I even made it half way; Jaskier at my heels.  
“All this bloody running up and down hills… It’s not good for my voice!”, he panted.  
“Then stop talking”, I hissed.  
Once at the top; I saw Geralt standing by an overturned carriage. He looked back at me; chiding me with his eyes for having followed. I raised my eyebrows, and shrugged.

Two horses; having already been ripped apart by scavengers; were still hitched to the carriage.  
“Stay back”, Geralt snarled. Jaskier and I went to stand behind a tree.  
The witcher gazed around the area, looking for danger.  
With bated breath, I watched as he climbed onto the carriage, and opened the door; looking down into the wreck. I saw him sigh; and he met my eyes.

I stepped forward.  
“Y/N…”, he began. “I’m not sure you want to see this”. He held his hand out to stop me.  
“My lady”, Jaskier said, and grabbed my arm; pointing towards a piece of cloth laying on the ground. It was a torn purple flag; depicting a Skelliger ship.  
My breath hitched.  
“Y/N”, Jaskier said softly.  
I tore my arm from his grasp; and ran up to the wreck; clambering up one of the wheels to join Geralt.  
I looked down into the dark carriage; and fell to my knees.

On the bottom of the carriage lay a young woman – near my own age it seemed – with a blade cut across her abdomen, and blood having dried from a gash on her forehead. She was dressed in a black velvet gown, with white lace trim; and a white lily on the front of the skirt. It was my dress.  
Geralt put his arm around my waist; trying get me to stand, and get of the carriage.  
“Y/N, you shouldn’t…”.  
“She’s me…”, I interrupted. “She’s… they sent her as me”.  
Geralt grunted.  
“It was probably quick”, he tried.  
I wrestled myself free from his grasp.

“Don’t!”, I yelled. “This is the carriage Eist sent; to lead Nilfgaard of our tracks. He sent her; to double as me”. I began hyperventilating.  
He crouched down next to me, and took me in his arms.  
“Breathe”, he said. “We need to get out of here”.  
“I can’t…”, I gasped. “She’s… please, no…”.  
I began sobbing. At that moment all I wanted was to have Thrude – my Tootie – to be there with me; wrap me in her arms.  
“Fjor barn. Fjor endr…”, I whispered, as she had when I was ill as a child; feeding me broth and chamomile tea, with honey from the bees in our fields.  
I felt all strength drain from my body; and I went cold all over. It was like there was a string from me to the woman – something unbreakable attaching me to her. And I wanted her to hear me.

“Sshh!”, Geralt hissed suddenly; looking down at the woman. “Her heart is beating”.  
He looked at me strangely; and then jumped down into the carriage.  
“Jaskier!”, I called with bated breath. “Get the horses!”. The bard ran down the hill again.

“Y/N”, Geralt said. “Your knife!”.  
I handed him my sgian-dubh quickly; and he held it to the woman’s nose; seeing the shiny blade fog up. He gave me my knife back; and picked her up carefully; gesturing for me to grab her arms.  
Working together; we managed to get the woman out of the carriage; and laid her on top of it.

I jumped of the wreck, and spread my cloak on the ground; after which Geralt gently placed the almost lifeless body on top of it.  
“Please…”, I said.  
“Do you know her?”, Geralt asked; and held the woman’s eyes open, to check if she was in any way responsive.  
I shook my head.  
“No, I don’t think so”.  
The witcher picked up her slender hand, turning it over in his own; and then sniffed the area around her neck.  
“She’s half elf…” he said and looked at me.

I lifted her hair from her ears; and saw that they had been trimmed. There was a scar at the top of each one. My eyes welled up.  
“I’m so sorry…”, I whispered.

Jaskier returned with our horses, and ran up to us; halting in his tracks when he saw what we were doing.  
“Oh, no…”, he gasped.

“We need to get her out of here”, Geralt growled.  
“Can we move her?”, I asked.  
He looked around; as if listening.  
“We have to”, he said; and wrapped the woman into my cloak; carrying her up to Roach.  
Jaskier and I held on to her as he saddled up. He took her from us, and sat her in front of him.  
“We have to hurry”, he said.

I went to saddle up; Jaskier getting on behind me.  
“Should we go back to Filivandrel?”, I called after the witcher.  
“Not if we want to keep our heads”, he said. “We’ll find something. Let’s go!”.  
“Brugge City is more than half a day behind us. Where will we take her?”, Jaskier asked.

It was then I realized that the hills we had been passing the last few hours, had marked the border.

We were in Temeria.

\---

We found a small fishing village by the Chotla river. Jaskier managed to charm his way into the cabin of an old widow; just outside of town.  
“It’s so lovely to have visitors here. Haven’t had much company since my husband died”; she said, as Geralt carried the young half elf through the door. “Is the young lady sick?”.

I rushed in behind Geralt.  
“Please madam; we need to lay her down somewhere, so we can treat her wounds”.  
“Madam”, the old woman smiled. “Well I’ve never been called that…”.  
“Please!”, I interrupted.  
The woman seemed to begin to understand the urgency, and nodded.  
“The table”, she said, and removed the mug and plate from where she had been enjoying her supper.

Jaskier found a sheet to cover the tabletop; and Geralt laid the wounded woman on top of it. She was still wrapped in my cloak.  
Geralt unwrapped her; and I went over to examine the wounds.  
“Y/N…”, the witcher said.  
“Shut up. I know what I’m doing”, I said.  
He grabbed my hand, as I was about to cut open the velvet dress.  
“She’s part elf”, he reminded me.  
I looked down and exhaled.  
“I know what I’m doing”, I repeated - more to myself, than to him.  
He let go of my hand.

I used my sgian-dubh to slit through the fabric surrounding the cut on the woman’s stomach. Suddenly her eyes opened; and she grabbed my hand.  
“No!”, she gasped quietly. “No more…”.

Jaskier ran to her head; and put his hands on either side of her face; looking into her eyes.  
“Shh… It’s alright”, he said softly. “What’s your name?”.  
“Sao… Saoirsheen”, she whispered.  
Jaskier smiled.  
“Saoirsheen. This is… Zaba. She’s going to help you”.  
Saoirsheen clenched her jaw, and looked fearfully at him.  
“My name is Jaskier; and the broody bastard over there…”, he nodded his head towards the witcher, “… is Geralt”.

Geralt helped me slowly peel away the fabric from the dress and chemise underneath; and I noticed that the blood in the wound had coagulated; but was full of dirt that would lead to infection if not cleaned. The wound was deep enough to have done serious damage if not checked.  
“There isn’t a healer anywhere near that will treat her, once they realize what she is”, the witcher whispered.

I sighed.  
“Saoirsheen, I have to cut into your wound… it will hurt”, I said.  
The young woman shook her head in panic.  
“I can try to sedate you… but I’m unsure of how your body will react. Due to your… blood”, I said looking at her meaningfully.  
Geralt looked from me to Saoirsheen.  
“You’ll be fine; you can trust her”, he grumbled.  
Saoirsheens eyes found Jaskiers; and he nodded smilingly at her.

I went to stand by the fire.  
“Madam...”, I said to the old woman.  
“Cynnes”, she answered with a smile. I smiled back at her.  
“Right. I need clean cloth; a pot; water… is there any chance you have wolfs aloe?”, I said.  
“I have the aloe”, Geralt said from behind me.

The old woman went to get the things I had asked for. Geralt went to stand next to me. My hands where shaking.  
“Your potion. The one you used for my knee…”.  
He shook his head.  
“It wasn’t made for humans; and certainly not for elves. The cut is so deep; it would kill her”.  
“I might kill her”, I whispered. “Again”.  
Geralt put his hand on my lower back; soothingly rubbing it.  
“You didn’t kill her, and you won’t now”.  
I looked at him with indignance.  
“This is my fault!”, I hissed. “She wouldn’t be here if not for me…”.  
Geralt exhaled.  
“That wasn’t by your choice”.  
“It wasn’t by hers either!”, I said. “We both know that…”.  
He grunted.

Jaskier stepped up next to me.  
“She’s burning up with a fever. What are we going to do?”.  
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  
“Jaskier; get the mandrake from my satchel. Geralt, I need to boil water”.

Jaskier went to get our bags from the horses; and Geralt helped Cynnes with the bucket of water she’d gathered from the river.  
I went back to the table, and smiled reassuringly at Saiorsheen.  
“Your name is lovely, Saoirsheen. Where are you from?”, I asked.  
“Cintra Capital”, she whispered. “My mother is a seamstress at the court”.  
“Is she… elf?”, I asked.  
Saiorsheen nodded slightly.  
“And your father?”, I said.  
“He’s from Skellige”, she smiled. “Like you, my lady. I recognize your accent”.  
I tried to smile.  
“Your sgian-dubh…”, she said. “I had one just like it. Not as pretty though… My father gave it to me on one of his visits with king Eist”.  
I frowned slightly.  
“You don’t have it anymore?”, I asked.  
She shook her head weakly.  
“It was taken from me. I’m not allowed to have knives. They don’t trust me with them”.  
I chuckled.  
“They hardly trust me with them either”, I smiled.

Jaskier began rummaging through my satchel; and pulled out the now dried pink oleander.  
“Not that one!”, I said quickly. “Those will kill her. The thin slices; wrapped in leaves”.  
Jaskier handed me the mandrake; and I went to put them in the now boiling pot of water. I added the wolfs aloe given to me by Geralt, and stirred until I was satisfied with the color of the liquid; pouring all of it into a mug.  
“Thank you for your sacrifice”, I whispered into it; gazing at Geralt, who was sending me a half smile.

I went back to Saoirsheen.  
“This will taste like piss mixed with old feet”, I said. “But it’ll relax you; and it might block some of the pain”.  
Saoirsheens breath hitched.  
“The boy”, she whispered. “I want the boy”.  
Geralt turned to Jaskier; and raised his brow.  
“Me?”, the bard whispered.  
“Jaskier!”, I hissed.  
Hurrying over to the young woman’s side; he took her hand.  
“I’m here”, he said softly, and smiled.  
I handed him the mug.  
“She has to drink all of it. No waste; or the mandrake might punish her – and me – by killing us”.  
Jaskier frowned; but poured all of the liquid into Saoirsheen’s mouth; taking care to wipe her cheek for stray droplets, and pushing them towards her lips.

Cynnes came over to me, holding a candle, and I let my knife touch the flame, to cauterize it.  
I looked at Geralt.  
“Hold her down”, I said.  
Geralt put his hands on Saoirsheens legs; and Jaskier leaned over her – still holding her hand – so she couldn’t see.

I took a deep breath; and slid my knife into the wound. Saoirsheen screamed in pain.  
“Sshh… it’ll be over soon”, I head Jaskier mutter.

Opening the wound, it was as I had feared. Whatever had cut through her belly had been sharp – but dirty.  
What the fuck am I doing?, I thought; and clenched my fists to keep from shaking.  
“Little frog…”, I heard Geralt breathe. I looked at him; and he smiled softly at me.  
If ever there was a time for magic, it’s now.  
I sighed; and got back to work.

I poured some boiled water gently into Saoirsheens wound; making her jump a little on the table; and wimper.  
“You are being very strong”, Jaskier whispered.

I smiled.

\---

A while later I was washing up. I’d managed to clean Saoirsheens wound; treat it with a poultrice of healing herbs; and stitched her back up.  
She was laying on Cynnes bed; washed, and covered in clean sheets. Jaskier was sitting next to her; holding her hand – whispering things I couldn’t hear.

I sat down on a chair tiredly; drying my hands. Geralt crouched down next to me.  
“I don’t think I did much of a difference for her”, I muttered.  
“You gave her a chance”, he said quietly.  
I scoffed.  
“A chance to go back to Cintra; and be treated like shit with the rest of her kind”, I snarled.  
Geralt poked at the fire.  
“When you’re queen you have the power to do something about that”, he muttered.

I chuckled.  
“Are you giving me advice on being a queen now?”, I smiled. “I thought you weren’t in the habit of meddling in politics”.  
“What you do when you get to Vizima is up to you”, he grumbled. “But you should probably remember what you’ve seen on your way there”.  
“Now you sound like Filivandrel”, I smirked.  
Geralt gave me a crooked smile.  
“He’s not wrong”.

Geralt put his hand on my knee and squeezed it; making me jolt from pain.  
“Your knee?”, he asked, frowning.  
I smiled.  
“It’s been a long couple of days. And I was tied to a pole in a tent all day, yesterday”, I said. “It’s probably still healing”.  
The witcher nodded.

Jaskier came to join us by the fire.  
“She’s asleep”, he said.  
Geralt grunted.  
“You should get some sleep too”, he said to me. “We have to move on soon”.  
I nodded.  
“I need to make sure she’s all right, first”, I said.  
The witcher looked at me meaningfully, exhaled; and nodded.  
“The old woman has offered us her wood shack out back. It’s dry”, he said.

“I think… I think I’m going to be sitting with Saoirsheen tonight”, Jaskier muttered.  
I looked at him, frowning.  
“Jaskier; she’s just been cut open and is fighting a fever…”, I said.  
Jaskier rolled his eyes.  
“I’m not a necrophiliac!”, he sneered. “And Cynnes will be here with us”.  
I narrowed my eyes at him.  
“You’re not going to try anything?”, I said. “That’s not like you”.  
“She’s already been through too much”, he said earnestly. “Don’t need me mucking up her life more”. He looked at his nails.

“Goodnight, Jaskier”, I smiled, and leant in to kiss his cheek. The bard blushed.  
Geralt patted his shoulder once; and we left the cabin for the small shack behind it.

Geralt had brought a blanket from the horses, and laid it on the mud floor for us to rest on.  
I was shivering – not from cold, so I guessed it was from the events of the evening.  
The witcher stroked my cheek; and sliding his fingers under my chin. Then, he brushed my lips with his thumb, before leaning in to kiss me.  
I pulled back.  
“I can’t…”, I said. “Not tonight”.  
Geralt nodded at me.  
“I understand”.  
I looked into his eyes.  
“Will you hold me?”.  
He opened his arms, and I slid into his embrace; once again putting my ear to his chest; listening for his slow heartbeat.

“That girl was dead, and you brought her back”, he said suddenly.  
I frowned.  
“I just cleaned her wound, and stitched her up”, I said. “We don’t know that she’ll make it”.  
Geralt sighed.  
“No”, he said. “When I saw her in the carriage, she had no heartbeat. She was dead”.

My breath hitched.  
“What do you mean?”, I demanded. “Dead bodies don’t heal. You saw her wound! Her blood…”.  
“Was coagulated”, he said. “She didn’t begin healing until after you saw her. When her heart began beating again”.

My chest heaved for breath.  
“What?”, Geralt asked, his eyes worried.  
I swallowed.  
“When I saw her…”, I said. “I went cold. It was like all life was drained from me. I was so distraught… I just wanted her to live again. To have the life back that was taken from her…”.

Geralt tensed up, and looked at me pointedly.  
“What did you say?”, he asked. “You were mumbling something back there; what was it?”.  
“You have superhuman hearing; you could hear me”, I scoffed.  
He clenched his jaw.  
“Yes, but I didn’t understand”, he said. “What does fjor mean?”.

I sat up and wrapped the blanket around me; and he sat up next to me, to look me in the eyes.  
“It was something my Thrude used to say to me when I was a child… when I was sick”, I answered. “It’s old skelliger. I think it means life”.

Geralt groaned deeply.  
“What?”, I asked.  
He looked at me with cold eyes.  
“You used magic”, he almost snarled.  
I shook my head.  
“I didn’t know…”, I muttered.

He stood up, and punched his fist into the wall; making the small building shake.  
“You could have killed yourself”, he growled. “There is no magic without a sacrifice. You drained yourself to bring her back!”.

I stood up behind him; and put my hand on his back.  
“But I’m all right, Geralt”, I said. “Nothing happened. It was an accident…”.  
He turned around and grabbed my wrist, looking at me angrily.  
“But what about next time?”, he snarled. “What happens when you pass a child’s grave, and will it alive again?”.  
“Geralt…”.  
“You were lucky she’d only been dead for such a short time. You would have…”.  
I pulled at my wrist.  
“Geralt, you’re hurting me”, I breathed.

He instantly let go of me; and his face dropped.  
“Y/N”, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I just want to protect you”.  
My lower lip was quivering. He backed away from me.  
“I’ll get you some more blankets, so you can sleep”, he said. “I will find somewhere else”.

I sank to the floor. My body just gave in; and I sat there – quivering.  
“You don’t want me anymore”, I whispered, tears beggining to run down my cheeks. “Because I’m not what you thought I was”.  
He turned to face me.  
“No”, he said, sinking down in front of me. “No, that’s not it. You are exactly what I thought you were”, he sighed. “But, don’t you want me away from you now? You said I hurt you. I don’t want that”.  
“I didn’t mean…”, I said. I rubbed my wrist. “I’m fine”. I tried to smile through the tears.

He put his forehead to mine.  
“I will always want you”, he muttered.  
“Even when I’m old; gray, deaf and blind?”, I whispered.  
He chuckled.  
“It’ll be easier to win arguments”.

I looked at him and sent him a crooked smile.  
“You’ll never win an argument with me”, I said.  
“Is that a promise”, he smiled.  
I laughed.  
“If you did; you’d know it was a doppler, and not me”.  
Geralt laughed along with me.  
“Can you stop crying now? I would like to kiss you”.

I threw my arms around his neck; and planted my lips on his. He slid his arms around me, and returned my kiss.

“Geralt”, I said; putting my forehead to his again. “What is happening to me? Am I becoming what Nilfgaard wants?”.  
He laid me down next to him again, and wrapped me in his arms.  
“I think Nilfgaard wants you to kill, not heal”, he said.  
I sighed.  
“This is fucking scary”, I frowned.  
Geralt chuckled.  
“Well, you’ve always been rather terrifying”, he said.

I slept deeper than I had in a long time that night.

\---

Geralt woke me at dawn.  
“She’s awake”, he said. “Asking for you”.  
I took his offered hand to stand, my legs a little wobbly; and followed him back into Cynnes’ cabin.

Saoirsheen was still laying in the bed; her color having improved much since the day before. I checked to see that her fever was down; and was relieved to find that my work on her hadn’t caused more damage – it seemed that I had in fact done exactly what was needed to help her recover.

“Are you feeling better?”, I asked.  
She nodded.  
“I’m dizzy, and my stomach hurts. But I am all right, I think”.  
I smiled and nodded.  
“You shouldn’t move for a while. You could tear the stitches”.  
“I know”, she nodded. “The old woman has been very kind. She’s offered me to stay until I feel well enough to travel”.  
I frowned slightly.  
“Does she know? About your mother?”.  
Saoirsheen nodded.  
“She doesn’t seem to mind”, she said.  
“She shouldn’t”, I retorted.

We sat for a while; as Jaskier brought the young woman broth, and helped her lift her head to drink it; and then went to get her some more blankets.  
“He’s a kind boy, that one”, Saoirsheen said.  
“He is”, I smiled and looked at her. “But…”.  
“Oh, my lady. I’d never!”, she frowned at me. “Have you heard him sing? It’s like a filingless pie! Not exactly something to make a woman’s loins quiver”.  
We laughed together; and I took her hand.

“Saoirsheen; we have to leave”, I said.  
“I know, my lady”, she answered.  
I looked at her inquiringly.  
“Why do you call me that? My name is just…”.  
She stopped me.  
“I know who you are, my lady”, she said, and looked at me with meaningful eyes.  
My breath hitched; and I wanted to say something – to somehow apologize.

“What happened back there… it was horrible”, she said, and began crying. Cynnes came to sit by her head, and stroked her cheek. “I was with some guards, that pretended I was you. They stopped us on that hill. They were soldiers; wearing black armor. One of them – a big one – came in to the carriage with me, and began asking me questions that I couldn’t answer. He didn’t like what I was saying; so, he began checking my body for marks”.  
She sighed.  
“When he got to my ears…”, she looked down; and dried her eyes. “I don’t really remember anything after that. Not until I was here, on that table”.

I breathed deeply.  
“I am so sorry”, I whispered.  
She smiled.  
“It wasn’t your fault, my lady. You didn’t put me in that carriage. And last night, you saved my life”.  
I didn’t know how to tell her that she’d actually been dead. That she had died for me.

I pulled out my sgian-dubh, and placed it in her hand.  
“I want you to have this”, I said.  
Saoirsheen’s eyes widened.  
“I could never…”, she began.  
“Someone took yours from you, without right”, I said. “Please. Keep it. Until we meet again”.  
She smiled, and nodded.  
“Until we meet again, my lady Zaba”.

I stood up to take my leave.  
Jaskier went to Saoirsheens side, and kissed her hand.  
“I’ll write you a song, my dear”, he said.  
The young woman frowned.  
“Please don’t”, she said.

Geralt stifled a chuckle; and we left the cottage.

\---


	12. Chapter 12

12

We began moving north again, taking care to avoid roads; but yet staying close enough to them; so that Geralt could hear any potential threat.  
I was finding it difficult to lead Bayrd forward properly; and at one point; I even had to let Jaskier sit in front of me; so I could hold on to him. I was tired and constantly needed breaks.

On one of these breaks, I fell asleep against a tree. I didn’t wake up until I realized I was sitting in front of Geralt on Roach. He had lifted me into the saddle, and was now holding on to me; so I wouldn’t fall off while we rode.  
I rubbed my eyes.  
“Careful. My fiancée might get jealous”, I said, and gestured towards Jaskier, who was riding Bayrd alongside us.  
Geralt didn’t say anything.  
“It was a joke; Geralt”, I said.  
He groaned.  
“You can’t get angry over a stupid joke…”.  
“Save your breath, little frog, I’m not angry”, he muttered behind me.  
“Then what’s wrong?”, I asked.  
“Nothing”, he grunted.

I looked towards Jaskier. He looked worried.  
“What’s going on?”, I asked. None of them would answer. “Geralt?”, I demanded.  
“You’ve been out for three days…”, the bard said.  
“Jaskier!”, Geralt growled.  
“What? You were going to pretend she slept for a few minutes?”.

I began feeling dizzy.  
“Put me down”, I said quietly. Geralt grunted, and didn’t slow down. “Put me down, I said! I’m not feeling well…”.  
Geralt halted; and helped me of the horse. I stumbled to the ground; and he quickly put his arm around my waist, to lead me to a tree I could sit against. My knee was throbbing with pain.

“I need water”, I said; realizing I was very thirsty and hungry. Geralt handed me a waterskin, and helped me uncork it. I drank the entire content. “Food?”.  
Jaskier handed me an apple.  
“Just promise you won’t throw it at me”, he chuckled; before meeting Geralts angry eyes.

Chewing on the apple; I looked at the witcher.  
“Three days?”, I asked.  
He grunted; and crouched down in front of me.  
“Since that tree outside Mayena”.  
My heart dropped.  
“Are we almost in Vizima?”, I asked.  
He tried to smile.  
“We’re at least a week away, little frog”.  
I exhaled in relief. I would have at least a week before I had to say goodbye.

Taking a large bite of the apple; my cheek hurt, and I put my fingers to it.  
“Is it…?”, I began.  
“Still bruised, from where Filivandrel hit you”, Geralt snarled.  
“But that was days ago!”, I yelped. He nodded.  
I tried for my neck. The cut from the nilfgaardians knife was healed; but the skin was sore. I wondered about my knee; but didn’t want to remove my pants in front of Jaskier.

“What’s happening to me?”, I asked.  
“I don’t know”, Geralt answered. “But we need to find out. You’re not well”.  
“And you don’t look so good either”, Jaskier added. I threw the apple carcass at him. “Hey!”, he yelped, and jumped out of the way.

Geralt stood back up.  
“We’re going to Maribor”, he said. “There’s a sorceress there…”.  
“A sorceress?”, Jaskier and I said at the same time.  
“She’s a friend”, Geralt grumbled. “She can tell us more”.

Jaskier walked over to Geralt.  
“Geralt; in the history of bad ideas, this is probably your worst one yet!”.  
The witcher grabbed a hold on the bard’s collar; and bared his teeth at him.  
“She is dying!”, he growled.  
My face went white.  
“What?”, I whispered.

Geralt let go of Jaskier; and went to crouch in front of me again.  
“You’re sick”, he said. “You’ve been unconscious for three days. Every wound on your body from the past few weeks have reappeared. You need help”.  
I shook my head in disbelief.  
“I’m fine”, I said; and tried to stand – falling instantly into his arms from the sharp pain in my knee.  
“You’re not fine”, Geralt snarled. “You are dying. And I won’t let that happen”.

He picked me up; and deposited me on Roach’s back again.  
“We’re going to Maribor”, he said; and saddled up.

—

It was another half days ride to the city of Maribor; and I spent most of it in front of Geralt, who held on to me with one arm, while leading Roach with his other hand.  
I tried to stay awake; but was in and out of it for most of the journey. My knee hurt, and I had begun bleeding from the cut on my neck.  
“Stay awake, little frog”, Geralt kept repeating behind my back. “Stay with me”.

We arrived at the gates to the city at dusk; where we were halted by four guards in temerian colors.  
It had begun raining; and I was shivering – both from cold, and from trying to remain conscious.  
“Who goes there?”, one of the guards called.  
“A witcher”, Geralt answered. “I am transporting this bard to King Foltests wedding”.  
“And the woman?”, the guard asked.  
“She’s my… fiancée”, Jaskier answered – almost choking on the word.

“He’s lying!”, another guard said. “You heard reports; there will be no wedding. The Lady Y/N was killed in transport to Vizima”.  
Geralt growled behind me; trying to keep his temper.  
“You heard wrong”, he said. “There was an attack; but the lady survived. She is being transported by one of my colleagues”.  
“Who?”, the guard demanded.  
“Vesemir”, Geralt answered.  
“Lies again. That old fuck was killed at the sacking of Kaer Morhen; everyone knows that!”.

Geralt tensed up in anger behind me  
“He was not”, he growled.  
“The witcher is telling the truth”, Jaskier said, trying for stern. “I saw the lady myself three days ago. In Brugge”.  
The guard seemed to ponder his words.  
“She pretty; the new queen?”, he asked.  
Jaskier twisted his face.  
“She’s all right”, he said.  
The guard smirked.  
“And the tits?”.

“We need to see Triss Merigold!”, Geralt snarled. “The bard’s fiancée is ill, and needs healing”.  
“The court sorceress arrived this morning; but she’s busy with preparations for the wedding”, the guard barked.  
“I thought you said the wedding was called off”, the first guard said.  
“She’s a sorceress; she must have known it was false news”, the second answered.

“Just let us in!”, Geralt yelled.

“Let them in”, a woman’s voice called from the top of the wall. “I know him”.  
The guards looked up at her.  
“But mistress Merigold…”, one of them tried.  
“Do as you’re told!”, she said indifferently.

The gates where opened; and we rode inside.

We were met on the street just inside the walls; by a young woman with auburn hair and a kind face.  
“Geralt”, she said. “Welcome back to Maribor. I’m told you’ve been here before”.  
“Not now, Triss”, Geralt said. “I need your help”.

He got of Roach and helped me down; instantly having to pick me up in his arms and carry me; as I had no strength in my legs.  
“Who is this?”, Triss asked.  
“My… fiancée”, Jaskier answered; once again having trouble with the expression. “Zaba”.  
Geralt wouldn’t meet the woman’s eyes.

“Hmm…”, Triss answered, and walked up to Geralt and me.  
I looked at her weakly. When our gaze met; Triss’ eyes widened.  
“I see…”, she said, and frowned. “Follow me”.

—

We went down several smaller streets; and every step Geralt took was a jolt through my body – causing me pain. I whimpered.  
“Almost there”, Triss said softly.  
“Stay with me”, Geralt muttered.

It seemed Triss had taken us to a back entrance to the city keep. She opened a small door, and led us up several flights of stairs; until we we’re in what seemed to be an attic room.  
It was clean; decorated meagerly but sufficiently, with a few mirrors and wall hangings depicting trees. Against one wall stood a bookcase with leather-bound volumes, and multiple flasks and crystals. Over a large table hung herbs drying; and on the table laid scrolls and maps. It smelled like Thrudes cabin.

“Put her down there”, Triss said; and Geralt carried me to a small bed – probably Triss own sleeping place. I cried out in pain and exhaustion when he placed me on the mattress. He quickly stroked my cheek, before moving back to give Triss room to see me.  
The sorceress sat on the edge of the bed; and put her hand on my cheek.  
“Zaba?”, she smiled softly; before lifting my frog pendant to examine it. “A little on the nose, isn’t it witcher?”.  
Geralt grumbled.  
“Can you help her?”, he asked.  
Triss sighed.  
“Well, I suppose I have to, seeing as she’s my new queen”.  
I opened my mouth to speak.  
“Sshhh…”, she smiled at me. “Don’t speak, your highness. You need all the energy you can spare to breathe right now”.

She was right. It was taking everything I had, just to keep my lungs working, and I had to force every breath.

“What happened?”, Triss demanded.  
Geralt went to stand by my head on the other side of the bed.  
“She… did something”, he said. “There was a half elven girl. She was dead…”.  
Triss’ face seemed to drain of blood.  
“And now she’s not…”, she sighed.  
Geralt nodded.

Triss walked over to her table, moving around some papers on it.  
“So it’s true”, she said. “If Foltest knew… he would have never agreed to this union. He’s having trouble enough accepting me – I am forced upon him by the Brotherhood”.  
She came back to me; carrying a small crystal in her hand.  
“I’m going to have to look”, she said. “In your head. I can’t promise it won’t be painful… but in your case there’s a chance it will be no more than a small irritation behind your eyes”.  
I nodded; and she smiled warmly at me.

Placing the crystal on my chest; she then put her hands on either side of my head.  
“Close your eyes, your highness”, she whispered. My eyes fell shut.

… warm. I’m in bed, and Tootie is telling me a story about a boy named Mouse, and a girl named Toot. I’m eating honeyed toast; and giggling, because Tootie is tickling my feet…  
… it’s so big! It’s screeching; and diving for one of the lambs in the field. And now there’s so much blood…  
… Eist is yelling at me because I climbed the tree in the courtyard; and I’m crying because I fell down. And now he’s hugging me and apologizing…  
… music, and laughter. I am carving my name into the table with my new knife…  
… my hand hurts, and Crach and Craites nose is bleeding. Serves him well for calling me a stupid girl…  
… Eyrick is taking too long to finish, and his breath smells like herring…  
… “bloody kiss my ass! There isn’t a chance in Hel I’m getting on that ship!”… who is that whitehaired man?…  
… “So you will do it?”. Eist is talking to the stranger. “I will. On my terms”… amber eyes…  
… screaming, and a sword slashing into mist. He’s yelling at me. “I should have let her have you!”…  
…”The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige isles!”…  
… he’s naked in front of me. I want to touch him. I want him to touch me. Now his lips are on mine, soft. His thrusts, making me quiver…  
… a knife, sharp against my neck… I killed him…  
… deeper than I thought was possible, and his lips on my breast… again… please don’t stop… hold me… I’m coming!…  
… “have not even begun to scratch the surface”…  
… “Not my foe”…  
... “But I have you until then?”... “And we’ll be written on each other’s lives after”...  
… “Her heart is beating!”… mandrake root… “You brought her back”… she was dead…  
… I’m dying… Geralt!…  
“Geralt!”, I screamed. I was back.

Triss was looking at me with pained eyes.  
“I’m sorry you had to witness that”, she said. “Saoirsheen. It shouldn’t have happened”. She smiled at me. “But you saved her. She will live”.  
She removed the crystal from my chest; and Geralt sat next to me, holding my hand.

“Geralt, I need to speak with you”, the sorceress said.  
I held on to his hand.  
“I’m not leaving”, he said. “I’ll be just over there”.

I could hear them talking; but could not make out all the words. I was still heaving for breath.  
“… but her? Geralt, are you mad?”.  
“… happened, Triss. I didn’t plan it. She’s not…”.  
“… idiotic… not some whore you can…”.  
“I care about her!”, I heard Geralt growl. “She’s more than anything…”. He sighed.  
Triss shook her head, and walked back to me.

“Y/N”. It was strange hearing my real name from her lips. “I saw inside your head. I know”.  
I opened my lips.  
“It doesn’t matter to me. But it will matter to someone very important to both of our futures”.  
Foltest, I thought.  
“So it will stay between us”.

She went to the bookcase and pulled out one of the volumes.  
“Right now, we need to focus on what’s wrong with you”, she said. “I had heard from Eamon that there was more to you than just a title and a dowry. I didn’t know whether it was true, until I saw what you did for Saoirsheen”.  
She began gathering ingredients – herbs and roots – in a bowl.  
“You gave your life for her; quite literally. Everything you need to heal yourself, and keep yourself alive; you gave to her, when you wished her back. And you used some very powerful words, that you didn’t know how to control”.

She began unlacing my jerkin to undress me.  
“Uhmm…”, I heard Jaskier from the corner. “Should I really be here for this?”.  
Triss sighed.  
“Go to the kitchen, bard. You look famished”, she said. “And leave the kitchen-maid alone. I am treating her for… something”.  
Jaskier winced; and scuttled off.

“Help me”, Triss said to Geralt, and together they removed my clothes, until I was laying naked in front of them. Geralt focused on my face; and I could tell there wasn’t a lewd thought in his head. Only worry.  
“I need to give you back the life you lost”; the sorceress said.  
“Saoirsheen…”, I gasped.  
“It won’t hurt her”, she answered. “You could have been a sorceress; if Eist hadn’t hidden you from Aretuza. Had you gone there; you would have learnt to halt your aging. That means draining from the source that place has. A source of life”.  
Grabbing the bowl of crushed ingredients; she used a brush to paint symbols on my chest and my limbs.  
“I cannot tap into that from here; but I can attempt to recreate a weaker version of it. One that will give you what you need to survive”.

“Attempt?”, Geralt muttered.  
“I can’t make promises, witcher”, Triss said earnestly. “But I will do my best. You should probably leave”.  
Geralt shook his head.  
“I’m not going anywhere”.  
She looked at him, and nodded.  
“In that case; you need to stand back”, she said. “No matter what happens; you cannot touch her. She will be a… the best word I can think of is sponge – for any life that comes into contact with her skin”.  
She sighed.  
“Speaking of which…”, she said; and went to a covered glass bowl in the corner. “We need a life-source”.

She put her hand into the bowl; and fished out a large frog.  
“I’d rather have used a mouse or a dove; but this is all I have handy”, she said. “Croaky here will give you its life-force. It does mean he will die; but he’ll have sacrificed his life for the future queen of Temeria”.  
I frowned.  
“You don’t have to feel sorry for him. He’s the most stubborn and annoying one I have”, she smiled.  
“Then it’s a good fit”, Geralt mumbled. I sent him the angriest eyes I had the energy to muster.

Triss lifted the struggling frog to her lips, and kissed it. It instantly froze.

“M-may I see it?”, I whispered.  
The sorceress narrowed her eyes at me, and then looked to Geralt. He nodded.  
She walked over to me with the frog; and held it next to my head, so I could see it.  
“Thank you for your sacrifice”, I breathed.  
Triss looked at me in wonder.  
“You are very different than I thought you would be…”.  
She placed the now motionless frog on my chest; and gestured for the witcher to step back.

Lifting her hands in the air, she spoke a series of words in a language I didn’t understand.  
Suddenly it felt like all air left my lungs. My limbs grew stiff; and I cramped up; my back arching from the bed. All life was gone from me. There was an eternity of darkness.  
Then my chest began to burn. The air returned to my lungs; and I felt a pain; like a glowing red iron rod being punched into my heart; and streaming boiling hot fluid throughout my body; through every vein; waking every nerve.  
And I screamed. I screamed louder than I ever had. When the air left my lungs, I drew in a new breath; and I screamed again.

“Triss!”, I heard Geralt shout.  
“Don’t touch her! She’s draining life!”, the sorceress yelled back.

I kept screaming. There was such pain. I felt every inch of my body – skin, organs, bones – and then it stopped.

—

“… but when will she wake?”.  
“Her body died and has been resurrected. She needs rest to find herself in it”.  
“Triss…”.  
“She’s strong. She could have been even stronger, had she had training”.  
“She’s not a sorceress”.  
“No, she’s not. But she has something inside her… She is so strong willed. I saw it”.  
“And that will bring her back”.  
“I’m quite sure it will… Geralt… you two…”.  
“I know. She knows as well. But I will not leave her until she asks me to. I can’t”.

My mouth was dry.  
“Water…”.  
Someone held a cup to my lips; and I drank the content. It wasn’t water – it was chamomile and honey tea.  
I opened my eyes.  
Triss was smiling at me.  
“Good morning, your highness”.  
I blinked.  
“How long?”, I asked.  
“Only this last night”, the sorceress said.

I looked down my body to find I had been cleaned of the strange symbols; and was wearing my pants and my shirt. The rest of my clothes were draped over a chair.  
Geralt was standing at the foot of the bed; his brows furrowed.  
“How do you feel?”.  
I had to consider the question.  
“Good, I think”, I said.  
“Pain?”, he asked.  
“No”, I answered. “No pain. No… nothing. Just hungry”.  
He seemed to sigh in relief.

Triss went to put away some books and pieces of cloth, it seemed she had used to clean me off.  
“Witcher; go get her something to eat. Fruits and meats. She needs energy”.  
“I feel perfectly fine”, I said.  
“I’m sure you do”, she smiled. “But you haven’t had a proper meal in days; and magical lifesource or not; you are human, and need sustenance”. I smiled at her.

I like you, I thought.  
“I like you too”, she said, and smiled.  
I chuckled in wonder.  
“Don’t worry”, she said. “I can’t read your mind anymore. But after all I’ve seen, I know you enough to read your expression”.  
“Well; if you are the court sorceress for Foltest; we should probably try to get along”, I laughed.  
She grinned at me; before looking at Geralt.  
“Run along. The lady is hungry”.

Geralt looked embarrassed for a second; before nodding, and walking out the door; closing it behind him.

I sat up in the bed; feeling none of the pain I had the night before. Triss came to sit on the edge of it, next to me.  
“You will be a good queen”.  
I couldn’t help but frown. She smiled.  
“You guide kings, heal elves. And make witchers feel”, she said. “If you didn’t also have a natural inkling of sorcery; I would still call you magical – and a good addition to the court”.  
I sighed.  
“And spells?”, I asked. “Chaos and destruction”.  
She frowned.  
“It’s there”, she said. “You need to be careful with those things; you don’t have the training to use it”.  
She seemed to ponder her words, before finally making a decision.  
“Y/N”, she said. “Just like you gave your life to that woman; you can also drain the life from someone else. It will make you more powerful; but like with the frog…”.  
“It could kill them”, I muttered.  
She nodded.

I looked down.  
“Succubus…”, I chuckled.  
“What?”, she asked.  
“It’s… something Geralt… never mind”.  
Her smile turned sad; and she took my hand.  
“The witcher”, she said. “He cares for you deeply, but… As a queen, once Foltest has had what is his; you can take any lover you want. I will even help you hide him in your closet for you…”, she laughed. “But Geralt…”.  
“Won’t be able to stay. Won’t age. Will live long after I’m dead; and have lovers after me”, I said.  
She looked at me questioningly.  
“But you don’t care”, she said.

I sighed.  
“I care. But what he is to me – what I think I am to him – that won’t become… less”. I looked into her warm eyes. “We aren’t each other’s, but we are one”.  
She nodded, and squeezed my hand; before standing up.

“I am off to Vizima. I will use a portal, so I will be there when you arrive”. She looked at me with nothing but tenderness. “I won’t tell the king I saw you. He’ll wonder why I didn’t just bring you back myself. It will give you some time”.

The door opened, and Geralt came back into the room with a plate of food, and a bottle of what looked like wine. Triss smiled at him meaningfully.  
“Take care of her Geralt”. He grunted and nodded. “Your highness; I will be glad to call you a friend, if you’ll have me”.  
I smiled.  
“I will”.

She walked out the door, leaving us behind.

Geralt sat down on the edge of the bed, next to me. He handed me the plate.  
“Are you really all right?”, he asked.  
“I have frog energy now”, I jested.  
He laughed softly.  
“You always did, little frog”, he said. “Now eat”.

—

Insisting that I needed to rest more; and that he needed to have a real drink for the first time in days; Jaskier convinced us that we should take some rooms in a tavern. It wasn’t a hard sell for me, as I desperately needed to be alone with Geralt.

Once in our room; I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with my lover; and have him to myself.  
I slid my hands behind his neck; and pulled him down to kiss me.  
He stopped me.  
“No”, he said quietly.  
A chill ran over my body; of pure embarrassment.  
“I’m…”, I said. “Of course. You don’t… wouldn’t want to now”.  
He frowned.  
“No, Y/N. No…”, he said. “Nothing is different. I still want you more than anything”.  
I frowned.  
“Then, I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”, I asked.

He went to look out the window, his back turned to me.  
He was quiet for a long time; and it felt like all air left the room.  
“Geralt?”, I whispered.

“You were in so much pain”, he said, still not turning around. “You screamed for hours”.  
I looked down; suddenly reminded of the anguish streaming through my body the night before.  
“I didn’t know it was that long”, I whispered.  
“It was”, he grumbled. “You were screaming, and you reached for help. You called my name so many times I lost count”.  
He turned around, and his expression was so pained; I couldn’t help but want to hold him – soothe him, somehow.  
“Before you; I never felt that… agony when someone was hurting in front of me”, he said, his amber eyes sincere. “But you… They say witchers have no emotions; but it felt like torture to see you like that. And then you screamed my name”.  
He walked over to me; still not looking into my eyes.  
“And I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even touch you”. He clenched his jaw. “I have never been so… afraid. Helpless”.

I swallowed hard.  
“I’m sorry”, I whispered. “I wish I hadn’t…”.  
“What?”, he asked. “Called my name?”.  
“I didn’t know I did that”, I said.  
“I’m not sorry”, he said quietly. “I know it’s because you…”. He sighed.

We could never say that word. It would ruin everything.

“You haven’t touched me since we left the keep”, I said. “Is that why?”.  
He grunted.  
“It was so painful”, I said. “I have never felt anything like that, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I want to forget it”.  
He met my eyes.  
“May I… touch you? Now?”, he asked.  
I nodded.

He put his hand on my cheek – carefully; as if I would break if he wasn’t gentle enough.  
I exhaled, and closed my eyes.  
His other hand found the back of my head, and he put his forehead to mine.  
“All that pain”, he breathed.  
“Help me forget”, I whispered. “Help us forget”.  
He smiled.  
“As you wish, little frog”.

I wrapped my arms around his neck; and he lifted me up to straddle his waist, as he carried me to the bed.  
His hand behind my head; he gently laid me down.  
“This is better”, he smiled.  
“What is?”, I asked.  
“To see you like this. Warm and smiling… And wanting”.  
Putting his lips to mine; we melded together.

He began unlacing my jerkin; and when it was off, he lifted himself off me, stood up; and quickly discarded his own, followed by his shirt.  
I smiled at him.  
“What?”, he said.  
“I’m beginning to forget already”, I smirked.  
He took my hands and pulled me into a seated position.  
“Then it is your turn to help me forget”, he said.  
He took a hold of the hem of my shirt, and pulled it over my head; leaving my torso bare.

He exhaled satisfied.  
“I want to see all of you”.  
I stood up in front of him; pulled off my boots; and then unlaced the sides of my pants.  
Geralt hooked his fingers into the waist of them; and then pulled them down my legs; crouching in front of me in the process. Once he had gently lifted each of my feet out of the pants; he looked up at me, and sunk his face into the apex of my thighs; then took a deep breath.  
The sensation of his warm breath on my folds made me moan; but the moan soon turned into a squeal, when Geralt – with a firm grasp on my buttocks – lifted me into the air; face still buried in my core.  
I laughed; and put my hands on the witchers shoulders to keep my balance as he held me up there.

“Mmhmm, that scent”; Geralt said into my warmth. “And the taste”.  
His tongue slid between my labia; and flickered over my clit.  
I shivered in pleasure.  
“Geralt; I’ll fall”, I breathed.  
He lowered me slowly; inhaling my scent all the way.  
“I’ll never let you fall”, he groaned; and lowered me gently onto the bed.

He stood over me; taking in every inch of my body.  
“Take of your breeches, witcher”, I demanded. “I have a whole new lifeforce to spend up; and I intend to take advantage of it, with you inside me”.  
He smirked.  
“I know”, he said. “But I will decide which part of me will be inside you; and in which order”.

My breath hitched; and he grabbed me behind my legs; pulling me towards him, and sinking to his knees.  
“First…”, he said, “… my fingers”.  
He slid two digits between my folds, and into me. I gasped.  
“Then my tongue…”.  
His tongue slid over my nub; and my body jolted.  
“And finally – if you are a very good little frog…”.  
He crawled over me; without removing his hand from between my legs.  
“… I’ll let you have my cock”.  
As he said the word; he crooked his fingers; and pushed hard and deep into me – making me see the sun, moon and the stars all at once.

I had all three things inside me that night. Multiple times.

—


	13. Chapter 13

13

“Wake up!”.  
It was still dark.  
“Y/N. Wake up!”.

Jaskier was standing over me.

“Hels ass; Jaskier. For once I’d like to just wake up, and…”.  
He hushed me.  
“Soldiers. Downstairs”.  
I frowned, and looked around the room.  
“Where’s Geralt?”.  
Jaskier shook his head.  
“He went to check on the horses a couple of hours ago”, he whispered. “At least I think he did. I didn’t talk to him when he left. I was… busy”.  
I saw that the witchers clothes, armor and weapons were gone. For a second, I felt sick – Did he leave me?  
He wouldn’t – I knew that. But if he’d been gone so long… Why didn’t he wake me up?  
Someone banged at the door.  
“Oy, witcher. Open up!”.  
Jaskiers eyes widened. I thought fast.  
“Take your shirt off!”.  
“What?”, the bard squeaked.  
“Just take of the fucking shirt, and get in to bed”.  
Another banging.  
“We lied to the royal guard stationed here, to gain access to the kings court-enchantress”, I hissed. “I’m naked in the witchers room – supposed to be engaged to you – they’re going to have questions; that none of us will be able to answer!”.

“Open the bloody door!”, the voice barked again.  
“Geralts going to kill me”, Jaskier mumbled below his breath; took off his shirt; and crawled under the covers – taking care to avoid touching me.

A loud crash, and three guards where standing in the room – one of them, the first guard Geralt had spoken to at the gates of the city. He looked at us, and frowned.  
“W-what’s going on?”, Jaskier stammered.  
The guard drew his lips into a sneer.  
“What are you doing in here?”, he asked.  
Jaskier patted my head, as if I was a dog.  
“I think it’s quite clear what we’re doing”, he smiled nervously. I smiled alongside him.

The guard looked confused.  
“This is the witchers room, the barman said…”.  
“Yes, it is. He…”, Jaskier began.  
“Lent it to us!”, I smiled. “I wanted some privacy with my Jasky, here”, I giggled, and put my head on the bard’s shoulder.  
Jaskiers face scrunched up.  
“Oh… darling”. He was making his best impression of a lover caught in the act. You’d think he had experience.

“Right”, the guard said. “Get dressed; both of you. The guard commander will want to see you”.  
He stared at us with cold eyes.  
“Is it possible you could go outside?”, I asked. “My fiancée is dreadfully shy”.  
Jaskier giggled nervously next to me.  
The guard scoffed, and went outside; closing the door behind him.

I pushed Jaskier out of the bed.  
“You smell like cherry-wine and cheap perfume”.  
He sneered at me.  
“Well, you smell like…”, he began. “Actually, you smell quite lovely… But that…”, he said and pointed towards where the guard had stood, “… was just as unpleasant for me, as it was for you!”.  
I scoffed.  
“Turn around, so I can get dressed”, I said. The bard did as he was told.

I quickly put my clothes back on; and we left the room to join the guards – both trying for embarrassed; why yes, we just had sex expressions.

We were led back to the keep; one of the guards holding on to Bayrds reins as we rode. Roach had been gone from the stables.  
Geralt, where are you?  
I couldn’t help but return to that horrifying thought I’d had earlier. The paralyzing fear, that the witcher had changed his mind. That he thought it would be easier to just let the royal guard have me, so he could go back to his normal life – whatever that was.  
Jaskier must have felt me tense up in front of him; so he gave my arm a gentle squeeze.  
“He’s fine”, he whispered.  
I’m sure he is; but why isn’t he here?  
At the other end of the keep, than where Triss’ room had been; we were greeted by a stout man; dressed in the same uniform, as the guards that had taken us to him. His demeanor was more regal than theirs, though; making it clear that this was someone of importance.  
“I am commander Flaxon”, he proclaimed – his well-groomed mustachio bouncing up and down with his upper lip. “And you are?”.

I bumped Jaskiers shoulder – leeting a meek expression cover my face.  
“I-i am Jaskier. The bard… The bard Jaskier. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”, he said nervously.  
“Aren’t you the one with that foulmouthed princess song?”, one of the lower ranking guards asked.  
“The one and only”, Jaskier smiled.  
The bard laughed.  
“That’s a good one, that one”, he grinned. “Who’s it about?”.  
I let my heel meet the bard’s toes.  
“Ow!”, he hissed. “It… it’s pure imagination”.  
“Oh, too bad”, the guard said. “She sounds like a lovely one”.

“Bayard!”, Flaxon barked. The guard stepped back and looked at the floor.  
The commander faced us again.  
“I am told you were found in the witcher – Geralt of Rivia’s – room”, he said. “That same witcher – it comes to pass – who two years ago took 4000 oren from a Maribor merchant; to help him with a pest problem - werewolf”, he almost spat.  
The commander went to sit at his desk.  
“After which; he disappeared. Leaving the merchant dead; and his family missing”.

My breath hitched.  
“That is not… something he would do…”, I tried.  
“Silence, woman!”, Flaxon spat. “Do not meddle in the business of men”.  
It took everything in me not to jump across that table and rip his throat out. Jaskier grabbed my wrist; sensing my inevitable burst of rage upon the man.  
“Darling… Zaba. Maybe you should sit down? You’ve had a trying few days”, he smiled tensely.  
I nodded, and took a deep breath to control my anger. A guard pulled out a chair for me; and Jaskier led me to it.  
“It’s that time of the month”, he whispered to the guard.  
I dug my nails into his wrist; and pulled him down to my ear.  
“I’ll make it your time of the month!”, I hissed.  
He let out a squeak, and I let go of him.

The commander leant back in his chair.  
“Tell me; where is the witcher?”, he said.  
Jaskier shook his head.  
“We haven’t seen him since last night; when he let us have his room. Have we, darling?”, he said, and looked at me. I shook my head.  
“Well”, Flaxon said. “You two seem to be important enough for the witcher to travel with – and rudely interrupt the court-sorceress in her business for – so we will keep you here; until he returns for you”.  
“Here?”, I asked.  
“Yes”, the commander proclaimed. “Your accommodations will not be as comfortable as the tavern; or indeed mistress Merigold’s chambers. But I trust you won’t have to stay long”.  
He stood up.  
“Once the witcher turns himself in; in exchange, we’ll let you go”.  
“Geralt turning himself in?”, Jaskier asked.  
The commander smirked.  
“He is a murderer. A thief”, he said. “He’ll be punished accordingly”.

It felt like a punch to the gut. I heaved for breath, and Jaskier grabbed my hand; holding it tight.  
Flaxon turned his back to us; and gestured to the guards.  
“Take them away”.

\---

We were placed in a cell in the lower levels of the keep. It smelled like rot, and there was nothing but the bare floor and some old straw to lay on.

Jaskier sat with his back to the wall, looking at me as I paced the floor.  
“You have to tell them who you are”, he said.  
“No”. I answered.  
“My lady; this is not the time for being stubborn and too proud to…”.

I stopped and looked at him poignantly.  
“Geralt wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t take someone’s money, and kill them. He doesn’t kill humans…”.  
“I know, of course he wouldn’t”, Jaskier said. “But the commander seems to think he did. So, if you just tell them the truth; maybe we could convince him of that”.

I kicked at some of the loose straw on the ground.  
“Another thing we both know about Geralt, is that he is a proud bastard, who would rather die, than let anyone think a witcher – let alone himself – would do it. He would have made sure the commander knew the truth”.  
Jaskier seemed to think about my words.  
“So… what are you saying? I am very confused”, Jaskier said; and shook his head.

I sighed.  
“I am saying; that the commander is lying”.  
Jaskier frowned; then his face lit up.  
“Oh!”, he finally said. “I see now! That also means… that we are captured by a corrupt guard commander; miles away from any help. This is just marvelous”, he scoffed. “And...! they took my lute!”.  
I shook my head in disbelief.  
“But… that still doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell them the truth”, Jaskier continued. “They would send us to Vizima, with an escort. Geralt could stay in hiding until this blows over”.

I inhaled through my teeth.  
“Yeah, I’m not sure”, I said apologetically. “If I tell them; that would mean that when they found us; you were in bed with king Foltests future wife”.  
Jaskier gulped.  
“Fuck…”, he whimpered.  
“Yeah…”, I agreed. “I would probably be fine – whereas you…”.  
Jaskier closed his eyes, and held up his hand to stop me.  
“Yes, thank you. I can imagine the rest myself”. He sighed. “So, what do we do?”.

I exhaled through my nose.  
“We escape”, I said.  
Jaskier smiled at me sarcastically.  
“That’s just a marvelous idea”, he scoffed. “Let me just get the door for you… oh right, I can’t. It’s locked; and there are guards standing outside it!”.  
I thought for a second.  
“Give me your boot”, I said.  
“What is it with you?”, Jaskier sneered. “Either you’re throwing fruit at me; or you’re asking me to undress!”.  
I clenched my jaw at the bard.  
“Jaskier!”.  
“All right, all right”, he mumbled; and handed over his boot. As I’d suspected, it was heavier than mine, and would do the trick.  
“Now sing…”, I demanded.

Jaskier frowned for a second; before I raised the boot in the air, as if to throw it at him.  
“T-toss a coin to your witcher;  
oh valley of plenty,  
oh valley of plenty, ooh…”.  
“Shut up!”. Someone banged at the door.  
“Keep going!”, I whispered, and went to stand by the door, with my back to the wall. Jaskier looked frantic.

“Toss a coin to your witcher;  
a friend of humanity….”.  
“Shut up, or I’ll come in there, and make you shut up!”. Good, so there was only one of them there outside.  
I gestured at Jaskier.

“Toss a coin to…”.  
“Right, that’s it, I’m coming in!”.  
The cell door opened, and a guard stepped in.  
“I thought I told you…”, was as far as he got; before I struck him in the back of the head with the bards boot. He fell to the floor – out cold, but still breathing – and I handed Jaskier back his footwear.  
After he had slipped it back on; we snuck down the corridor. There were several more cells, most of which seemed empty; save for one, where a drunkard was snoring loudly.  
This is too easy, I thought; as we snuck around a corner, leading to the stairs into the courtyard.

It was too easy. At the top of the stairs, two guards and an angry looking dog where posted.  
“I’m not giving you my boot again!”, Jaskier whispered. “Can’t you so something… sorceressy?”.  
I looked at him indignantly.  
“I think I’ve drained enough frogs for a few days; don’t you?”, I hissed. Besides; I didn’t know what to say to drain, instead of give life – and I didn’t want to kill these men.

Our lack of a plan turned out to be less than a problem than we thought; when I realized that both guards where drunk out of their minds.  
“Look Faris”, one of them said. “I got me a flute”. He pulled out Jaskier’s lute, and began strumming it violently.  
“It’s a lute; Boras, you cunt”, the other said. “Give it here”. He ripped the lute from the first guards hands; and I could feel Jaskier tensing up next to me.  
“No, don’t hurt her…”, he whispered.  
The guard began strumming the instrument; and barking his way through a song.

“The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles…”.  
“He’s butchering it”, Jaskier whined. I patted his shoulder; and snuck up into the courtyard.  
I was about to make my way to the stable – where we had left Bayrd – when Jaskier grabbed my arm to stop me.  
“My lute!”, he pleaded.  
I sighed.  
“Get Bayrd”, I said. “Quiet!”.

I began moving towards the guards; still no actual plan. I noticed the dog lifting its head and looking in my direction; to where I was crouching behind a barrel.  
I made kissing-noises with my lips; and the dog got on its legs – growling.  
“Shut up, you stupid mut!”, one of the guards said; and kicked at the dog. It instantly whimpered and moved backwards; head to the ground.  
Bastards, I thought.

I made kissing-noises again, and the dog looked towards me. This time, I stuck my head out; patting the ground in front of me. The dog crawled towards me, low to the ground; still growling quietly.  
Once he reached me; I put my hand out for him to sniff; without looking him in the eye. Slowly, the dogs growling turned to a whimper, and he licked my hand. I scratched him behind his ear.  
“They aren’t very nice to you, are they?”, I said. “We should find you a better place”.  
The dog sat up, and bumped my shoulder with its head.  
“That’s a good boy”, I said, and scratched him under his chin. I slowly raised my eyes, and met the dogs gaze. He looked like he was listening to me; and bumped my shoulder again.  
“Do you think you could help me? Let’s give those bad men what they deserve, hmm?”.

I picked up a rock from the ground, and threw it at the guard with the lute. The confusion from the bump the rock made against his back; made him stumble in his drunkenness, and fall to his ass.  
The other man pointed at his friend, and laughed. I looked angrily at him, and began growling. The dog growled along with me.  
“Get him!”, I snarled; and pointed at the laughing man.

The dog ran at the guard; and bit into his leg, dragging him to the ground. I ran up to the guard with the lute, snatched the instrument from him; before kicking him in the head – knocking him out.  
The other guard was kicking at the dog; and I ran over to get him as well. Once they were both out cold, I went towards the stable; beckoning the dog to follow.

Jaskier had fetched Bayrd; and had happy tears in his eyes, when I gave him the lute. He hugged it like a child.  
“I am never letting go of you again”.  
“Let’s go!”, I said; and got onto the horse, letting Jaskier get on behind me.  
“Who’s is the dog?”, Jaskier asked.  
“His own”, I answered, and drove Bayrd forward; the dog at his heels.

We raced through the gates – open due to the drunken guards – and found ourselves at the city walls. The dog began barking; and a guard stepped into the light.  
“What are you doing here?”, he yelled.  
“We’re on our way out of the city… The dog is leading us to our travel companion”, I answered; heart in my stomach.  
The guard grunted; looked at the dog, and nodded.  
“Open the gates!”, he called.

I sighed in relief; and led Bayrd out of the city.

\---

We rode northeast for an hour. It was still dark; fall already having begun to wain for winter in Temeria. I am so far away from home, I thought.  
“Where are we going?”, Jaskier asked.  
“I don’t know”, I said. I halted Bayrd by a large tree, and got off his back. Jaskier followed.  
I sat on the ground; the dog coming to sit next to me.  
“Where is he?”, I whispered.  
“We’ll find him”, Jaskier said, and put a hand on my shoulder – making the dog send him a menacing look.  
I sighed.  
“What was that story about Geralt being in Maribor two years ago?”, I asked.  
“I wasn’t here with him”, Jaskier said. “But I remember meeting him in Brugge not long after. He was especially broody – even for Geralt”.

Tears began welling into my eyes.  
“He was supposed to stay with me”, I whispered. The dog put its head in my lap.  
“If he is not here with you, it’s not by choice”, the bard muttered. “I have never seen him smile as much as since we met you in Skellige… It’s quite unnerving actually”.  
I chuckled through my tears.  
“Thank you, Jaskier”, I said.  
“You’re welcome, princess”, he smirked. “Now let’s find that bloody witcher”.

He stood up and gave me his hand.  
“Come along”, he said, and pulled me up from the ground. Once I was standing, I put my arms around his neck; and hugged him warmly – taking him by surprise.  
“You’re a good friend, bard”.  
“I… am honored to have the title”, he said. “But could you please let me go? If I smell too much of you when we find Geralt; he might castrate me”. I laughed into his shoulder.

I heard horses approaching.  
“The men at the gates said they went this way!”, a voice called. The dog growled.  
“Shh, boy”, I whispered, and scratched his ear.  
“Right!”. I heard the commander. “If any of you lot want a place under my watch in the future; you get me that woman!”.  
“Commander; how do you know she’s the one?”, another guard asked.  
“Did you not see her horse? The sword strapped to it?”, the first voice said. “O’Dimm made it clear they’d already had a run in with his own men. Must have taken it”.  
“Stop talking; and get me my prize!”, the Flaxon barked.  
“You heard the commander; spread out!”.

I scrambled to get on Bayrd; Jaskier behind me; and we sped off, into the woods.

\---

We found ourselves in a clearing; both the dog and Bayrd panting heavily from the speed we had kept.  
I got of the stallion.  
“They’re… he’s working for O’Dimm…”, I panted.  
“Woo! That was a fast ride; pardon me”, Jaskier yelped. He turned around, and seemed to adjust himself. “There. That’s better”. He looked at me, and put his hands on his hips. “What now?”.  
I shook my head; my heart still beating through my chest.  
“I don’t know. I don’t…”.

The dog suddenly raised its head, and sniffed the air.  
“What’s wrong boy?”, I said.  
The dog began running into the trees; barking at something I couldn’t see.  
“Please don’t tell me we’re following the dog”, Jaskier pleaded.  
“We’re following the dog”, I said, grabbed my sword from Bayrd; and set of running. Jaskier was at my heels, muttering curses below his breath.

I heard the dog barking in the distance; and then another animal snarling.  
Running in the direction of the sound; we were met by a rock wall; which I clambered up, to see the scene below.

In the small basin there was a fight going on – if you could call it a fight. A large grey, wolf – standing on its hind legs – was circling and snarling at… Geralt!  
The witcher was holding his hands up in front of him; making signs in the air – which made what seem to be a strange form of magical shield around him. His sword was laying on the ground behind the wolf… the werewolf, I corrected myself.  
“I don’t want to do this”, I hear Geralt mutter.  
The werewolf snarled; and snapped at the witcher.

Suddenly the dog ran up to it; barking and jumping in the air. The wolf turned to face it; ears low and baring its teeth.  
Please, doggy. Just run away.  
The dog sniffed at the air; before jumping up and down again, and whimpering.

Geralt began scanning his surroundings and smelling the air. His face turned in my direction, and our eyes met.  
“Y/N! Get out of here!”, he yelled.

The werewolf turned in my direction, and let out a loud growl.  
“No!”, Geralt snarled. “You stay here!”. He jumped at the wolf; knocking it to the ground.  
The dog barked loudly at the scene, before sniffing the air, and running behind a boulder.

The werewolf and Geralt were wrestling on the ground; Geralts sword still to far away from him to reach.  
“Calm down!”, I head him growl at the beast.  
The wolf was gaining the upper hand.

I clambered down the rock side.  
Geralt was bleeding from a cut to his ribs; and my breath hitched, as the wolf lifted its enormous paw to strike at his face.  
Geralts face was contorted, and it seemed that the beast was too strong for him to push away.  
Above us, the sky was turning pink; readying itself for morning. The light that fell onto Geralt face showed me that he was almost spent, and I wondered how long he had been fighting the wolf.  
The beast bared its teeth again; getting ready to lunge at the witcher.

I lifted my sword.  
“Get off him”, I screamed, and sprang at the werewolf.  
Geralt looked at me; and held his hand out.  
“No! Stay back!”, he yelled.  
“I can do it!”, I growled.  
“I know you can”, he said. “But stay back!”.

“Mama!”, I heard a child’s voice behind me.  
I let my sword fall, and turned around.  
A little boy was standing with his arms around the dog’s neck; whimpering with tears. A teenaged girl was looking at me with angry eyes, holding a short knife in front of her.  
“Y/N, stay back!”, Geralt demanded.

The sun beginning to show itself over the rock side; I heard sounds, like a whimpering mixed with a growl.  
Over Geralt, the werewolf began to tremor. It lifted its large head to the sky and let out a howl, as if in pain.  
“Mama!”, the little boy screamed again. The girl took him in her arms, and the dog laid on the ground in front of them.

The wolf began cramping up above Geralt, and his face began to relax.  
Suddenly, it was like the fur on the monster’s body retracted into its skin, and its bones began moving – reshaping themselves.  
The muscle spasms and bones settled; and a naked woman fell in to Geralts arms; heaving for breath.  
The young girl ran over to the witcher and the woman, and covered her in a blanket.  
“Mother?”, she whimpered.  
“Get the bottle from my satchel”, Geralt muttered.  
The girl ran to Geralts satchel; grabbing a small flask; then returned to the pair on the ground.

Geralt held the bottle to the panting woman’s lips; and she drank its contents.  
“It’s over”, Geralt said. “It shouldn’t happen again”.  
“Ever?”, the girl whimpered.  
Geralt grunted.  
“If it does, you know what to do”. The girl nodded solemnly at him.  
Geralt gently laid the woman on the ground; covering her in the blanket. The girl put her mothers head in her lap, and stroked her cheek. The boy and the dog slowly approached the scene, joining the pair.

Geralt stood up with a groan, holding his hand to the wound on his side. He walked over to me.  
“What are you doing here?”, he asked.  
“I… you were gone”, I stammered; tears welling into my eyes. “I thought, maybe…”.  
His eyes narrowed.  
“You thought I’d left”.  
“I didn’t know what to think”, I whispered. “Guards came, and took us to the commander”.  
Geralts eyes became dark.  
“Flaxon”, he snarled. I nodded.

The little boy looked up.  
“Is he coming for us?”. He began crying.  
Geralt groaned and clenched his jaw; looking at me.  
“Were you followed?”, he asked.  
I opened my mouth to speak; but couldn’t.  
“Girl; we have to get your mother out of here. Now!”.

He whistled, and Roach appeared from behind a boulder.  
“Where is your horse?”, he asked me.  
“Bayrd!”, I called, and my stallion joined us; Jaskier following behind him.  
“Hello. Hi”, he smiled nervously at the children. “Geralt! Fancy seeing you here, seeing as you left us, high and dry, in a Maribor jail cell…”.  
Geralts expression angered, and he looked at me.  
“We’ll speak of this later”, he growled.  
I frowned.  
“Are you angry with me?”, I asked.  
“Later!”, he snarled. He went over to the woman, and picked her up; placing her on Bayrds back.  
“Can you hold her?”, he asked the girl. She nodded; and he lifted her, and placed her in the saddle behind her mother.

He grabbed the boy, and put him in Roachs saddle.  
“We head back to the city”, the witcher said. “They won’t expect it”.  
Jaskier smiled.  
“Uhm, Geralt”, he said. “Me and Zaba just escaped a prison cell, by knocking out three guards… I’m not sure we’ll be welcome”.

“Fuck!”, Geralt roared. “North, then”.  
“We’re taking them to Vizima?”, I said.  
“No, Jaskier is taking them to Vizima”, he said. “You and I are going east. We’ll have to take the long way around; lead the commander of their tracks”.  
“Jaskier can’t protect them”, I whispered.  
The bard gasped.  
“Hey! I can hear you; you know!”.

Geralt looked at the teenaged girl.  
“No, but she can”, he said.  
He took the boy off Roach, placing him on the ground; still looking at the girl.  
“You stay on the smaller roads; Jaskier knows them”, he said. “Avoid cities; make camp only when necessary, and near smaller villages; so you won’t be attacked by animals or beasts without back up – and don’t let the bard sing”.  
“Still, I can hear you!”, Jaskier said.

The witcher turned to face his friend.  
“We will see you in Vizima”, he said quietly. “Be careful”.  
Jaskier smiled.  
“You care…”, he said.  
Geralt grunted; and turned his back to him.  
“We need to move”, he said to me.

I walked up to the dog.  
“I guess we found your place”, I smiled.  
“His name is Roro”, the little boy smiled. “Because that’s the sound he makes”.  
“That’s a good name”, I nodded.  
“The guards took him from us…”, the girl said. “When they killed my father”.  
My heart dropped.  
“I’m sorry”, I said. The girl nodded at me; her eyes warming up.

I stepped up to Bayrd; grabbing his muzzle.  
“Take care of them, boy”. I kissed the horse; and patted its neck; before turning around to join Geralt – tears running from my eyes.  
He grabbed my hand, and squeezed it quickly; before helping me saddle up on his mare.  
He then walked over to my stallion; patted his neck lovingly, and whispered something in his ear.

Saddling up behind me; he squeezed my hand again.  
“He’s a good horse. You’ll see him again”, he said. “Jaskier. By the way; why do you smell like Y/N so much?”. The bard laughed nervously.

With a final nod at the family, and a smile at Jaskier, we were off.

\---

We rode in the direction Jaskier and I had been coming; trying to catch the eye of the guards from Maribor.  
“Do they know who you are?”, Geralt said behind me.  
“I think so”, I muttered.  
He let out an enraged growl.  
“I’m sorry”, I said quietly.  
He grunted; his body rigid with anger.  
“They’ll follow our tracks. We just need to give them a short look at us”, he said. “I won’t let them have you”.

We reached the top of a hill, which gave us a view of the fields below. In the distance I saw horses approaching.  
“Not yet”, Geralt muttered.  
My heart was pounding; and I was breathing hard in fear.  
“Geralt…”, I said.  
“Not. Yet”.

The riders came closer, having noticed us on the hill. There were at least 20 of them that I could count.  
“Please…”, I breathed.  
Geralt put his arm around me; holding me to his chest; so I could follow his calm breathing.  
“Almost…”.

I could make out the mustachioed man in the front. Flaxon.  
Next to him rode another man; dressed in black armor; with a haughty expression on his face.  
O’Dimm!  
I recognized him from the feast in Kaer Trolde – before I’d left Skellige.  
“Geralt”, I whimpered; grabbing at his arm.  
The witcher grunted.  
“Now!”.

He kicked at Roach; and we fled down the hill – away from O’Dimm and the riders. We rode faster than I had ever ridden.  
I clambered to hold on to the mare’s mane; squeezing my thighs hard to not fall off.  
“I’ve got you”, Geralt said. “I won’t let you fall”.

We continued into the woods; the riders still following us.  
Geralt seemed to sniff the air; and suddenly led Roach south; meaning the riders would be flanking us within a short time.  
“Geralt! Where are you taking us?”, I yelped.  
“To get help”, he answered simply.

Finding ourselves in front of a rocky mound with an entrance into a cave; Geralt halted.  
I saw a large shadow emerging from the cave; snarling at us.  
“It’s done!”, Geralt called. The creature stopped in its tracks. “She’s cured”.  
“The girl?”, the creature growled – surprising me with its ability to speak.  
“You know I cannot cure a born were”, Geralt snarled. “It will be up to her if she wants to return”.  
The creature grunted.  
“Who is that with you?”, it asked.  
Geralt held on to me a bit tighter.  
“Foltest’s new queen”, he said. “We need safe passage”.

The creature stepped into the light. In front of us; now stood a large werewolf; twice the size of what the woman had been. Stepping forward behind it were about a dozen more like it; all slightly smaller, but no less terrifying.

The alpha snarled and bared its teeth.  
“And why should we give safe passage to a queen of a land that has exiled us?”, it growled. “Tell me witcher… my children are getting hungry from just the smell of her”.

\---


	14. Chapter 14

14

“Wolrunn!”, Geralt snarled. “Your grandchildren’s mother is healed; and they are on their way to a safe place. Just as I promised. Now I ask you to grant me this one favor in return!”.

The large alpha werewolf snarled; and the smaller beasts began circling us.  
“And the girl?”, it barked.  
Geralt exhaled.  
“If she wants to return, she will. She knows how to find you”, he said.  
“But is she…”, the wolf began.  
“She is still wolf”, Geralt yelled. “When she wants to be. Your bloodline is saved, should she ever choose to become a mother”.

Wolrunn barked; and his children backed up. He sniffed the air.  
“You have brought company”, he growled.  
Geralt grunted.  
“It is as I said. We need safe passage”.  
The wolf stepped closer to us; baring it’s teeth at me.  
“For the queen of Temeria”, he snarled. “I should eat our heart, woman!”.

Geralt began drawing his sword.  
“Over my dead body”, he snarled.  
The beast seemed to chuckle.  
“That can be arranged”.

I gulped.  
“Why?”, I yelped. “Why do you want to kill me?”.  
I pried myself from Geralts grasp – a difficult task, as his fingers where digging into my jerkin to keep me in place.  
“Let me down, witcher”, I muttered; and squeezed his hand.  
“Little frog…”, he whispered.  
“Let me down”, I repeated.  
Geralt slowly let go of me; and I got on the ground in front of the werewolf.

It was large – to look it in the eyes I would have to lift my head all the way back. But I didn’t.  
I kept my head low, looking at the ground – showing my inferiority to him.  
“The riders that are coming…”, I began.  
“Y/N!”, Geralt growled.  
I shrugged him off.  
“They are here for me”, I continued. “They want to give me to Nilfgaard; for them to win the war”.  
The beast scoffed.  
“I have no issues with Nilfgaard. My kind is welcome there”, Wolrunn snarled.  
“And yet you stay here”, I said. “You are bound to this place for some reason… you don’t want to leave”.  
“We want peace! To be with our own!”, the wolf barked at me; making me jump.

I exhaled slowly; still looking down.  
“Nilfgaard will not bring peace, you know that”, I whispered. “They will not let you stay here. They will run you away, as they run away every non-human from their homes”.  
Wolrunn growled.  
“As does Temeria. And Cintra. And Skellige…”. I flinched at his mention of my homeland.  
“Yes”, I whispered. I got on my knees and tilted my head; baring my neck. “But not by right. Only by cruelty and arrogance. Something that has always been, and always will be”.

The wolf huffed.  
“Why do you bare your neck to me, woman? Make yourself less than?”, he asked.  
I swallowed.  
“Because you are a wolf. An alpha; and the leader of your pack”, I said. “And I see only two outs of this situation. Either you kill us; or I hope I can show you my insignificance, so you will let us live”.  
“You are a queen…”, the wolf said.  
For the first time; I looked him in the eyes.  
“I am not your queen”, I said.

Wolrunn began laughing.  
“You are something else, woman! Are you sure you’re human?”, he said; and leant in to sniff at me – his large frame casting a shadow over me. I felt his warm breath – which smelled like raw meat – on my face and neck. “You don’t smell… human”.  
“I am”, I said. “But I am also something else. Something I don’t know much about myself.

The wolf growled; and opened its gigantic mouth; putting it to my exposed neck. I felt his teeth touching my skin – but did not move. I could feel Geralts eyes on me and heard his breath hitching.

Wolrunn pulled back.  
“Go”, he said. “Do not come back here. If you do, I will let my children have you”.  
I gulped, and nodded.

I grabbed Geralts outstretched hand, and got on Roach behind him.  
“Let’s go”, he muttered. And we sped off, going around the rocky mound that was the wolves lair.  
Behind me I could hear riders approaching the mound, followed by loud howls and growling. Men were screaming and I was sure I heard bones cracking from flesh being torn from them.

“Don’t listen, little frog”, Geralt muttered. ”Just hold on to me”.

\---

We proceeded to go north. I was holding on fiercely to the witcher; who didn’t say a word to me the whole time.  
We stopped hours later at the bank of a lake. We hadn’t seen a human being or creature of any kind since we left the wolves; and I was sure we were miles away from anyone.

I got of Roach, and stumbled down to the water; falling to my knees in front of it; shaking. I used the water to wash my face and neck; rubbing my skin until it was almost red – trying to calm my breath.  
Suddenly; I felt Geralts hand on my shoulder, pulling me back, and pressing me to the ground. His mouth was on my lips; violently kissing me, and pressing his tongue against mine.

“Geralt…”, I managed.  
“Stupid woman!”, he growled; and ripped at the leather strings keeping my pants together at my hips. “Fucking…”, he began, before his words turned into a roar.  
Pressing his lips to mine once more; he grabbed at my pants; pulling them down, and getting one of my legs free.  
His hand grabbed at my core – continuously kissing me and rubbing me – trying to get me as wet as possible; before he freed himself from his breeches, and pushed into me with a snarl.

“Fuck…”, I moaned, and threw my hands around his shoulders.  
He wouldn’t have it. He grabbed my wrists and held them with one hand over my head; as he kept thrusting into me; seeking his angry release.  
“Geralt, please…”, I mewled; my loins aching with sweet pain.  
His other hand found my throat, and he squeezed it – just enough to make me feel completely at his mercy.  
“Don’t talk”, he snarled.  
His hips where slamming against my backside, as I was laying with my knees lifted in the air; and his cock was relentlessly excavating my insides. It was so brutal – and felt so good!

He pressed himself into me; making me quiver and heave for breath. I wanted him to touch me; but he wouldn’t move his hands, not matter how much I struggled.  
In sheer frustration, I pushed my head forward – straining against his hold on my throat – and bit into his neck; just hard enough for him to let go of me.  
He lifted his head, and looked at me with a mix of rage and pure lust in his eyes. He pulled out, and forcefully turned me over with a snarl; before pounding back into me from behind – still holding me down.

His moves became faster and harder – and though not a single moan came from his lips – his snarling and groans let me know he was close.  
I was just about sobbing from the delicious but brutal attack; and mewled his name – leading him to slam into me three final times; and then, with a final screaming roar, he came inside me; and then just pulled out.

I laid on my back; looking up at the sky.  
“Was that my punishment? For putting myself in danger?”, I breathed.  
“What?”, he grumbled next to me.  
“Not letting me come? Is that how you punish me?”.

He sat up and looked at me.  
“Punishment? You think I would punish you?”.  
I sighed.  
“You’re angry with me. So, you fucked me without letting me come. Or is that just how witchers make love?”.  
He sneered at me.  
“You almost got killed. Again. You bared your neck to that wolf”, he snarled. “You keep risking your life without any concern for the repercussions for yourself or anyone else”.

I sat up, and looked at him angrily.  
“I was saving our lives!”.  
“You were being…”, he began.  
“Say it!”, I sneered.  
He met my eyes.  
“Do you know… what I would have to do, if you died?”, he said.  
I scoffed.  
“Well, you wouldn’t get paid”, I snarled.  
His face dropped.  
“Is that still why you think I am here?”, he said.

“You left!”, I screamed. “You left me behind. No note or message to let me know you were coming back”. I clenched my jaw. “You left…”.  
His expression softened.  
“I left you a message with the barman”, he muttered. “I’m sorry…”. I could hardly hear his voice.  
I looked down.  
“I didn’t know”, I said. “They took us from the tavern before I could ask him”.

Geralt exhaled deeply.  
“That girl. Ylva”, he said. “She had heard I was back in Maribor, and came to find me. She needed my help”.  
“The werewolf…”, I muttered.  
He nodded.  
“Her father… He was Wolrunns son”, the witcher continued. “He was one of the last sons he had who could still sheed his wolf form. He had a shop in Maribor; wanting to live with humans. That’s where he met his wife; and she gave birth to their children”.  
“What happened”, I said quietly.  
“Ylva was beginning to turn wolf at the full moon. It is usually how it begins; when you are not born by a wolf mother. He wanted me to heal her – to clear her of what he saw as a curse”. Geralt sighed. “I managed to convince him that I couldn’t; and that she should be allowed to live as what she was. The girl is stubborn and strong – like someone else I know”, he said, and smirked at me.

I laughed quietly.  
“So she learnt how to control it?”, I asked.  
“She was beginning to, from training with her father”, he answered. “By now, she has full control. Her grandfather has helped her in that”.  
“He can shift back?”, I wondered.  
“He chooses not to”, Geralt answered. “Pride”.  
I nodded.

“But how did she come to meet Wolrunn? If her father was keeping them away from his pack?”.  
The witcher sighed, and looked at me with hard eyes.  
“Once the guard commander heard news that the merchant had hired a witcher, he had him followed – and realized he was wolf, as he was training with Ylva in the fields”. He clenched his jaw. “I had left by then. I shouldn’t have”.  
I took his hand. His eyes were pained – angry.  
“The guards killed the man; but not before he had managed to get his family out; telling them to go to Wolrunn”. He squeezed my hand.  
“And the 4000 oren?”, I muttered. He raised a brow at me.  
“I took half of it”, he said. “It was a contract; but I didn’t do the job he had asked me to. I only guided him in another direction. So, full pay was out of the question. That’s how it works”. He snarled again. “Flaxon must have taken the rest”.  
I nodded.  
“Of course. I’d never think…”.  
“I know you wouldn’t”, he said and removed a strand of hair from my face. “Flaxon was always corrupt. Always wanted more than his position could get him. That’s probably why he is working with O’Dimm”.

I frowned.  
“But the mother. She became wolf”, I said.  
“Ylva told me one of her uncles bit her last year”, he said. “She’d begun changing at the full moon; but was never able to control it. And she was becoming a danger to the boy”.  
“He is not wolf?”, I asked.  
“He takes after the human side of the family”, Geralt chuckled.

I nodded.  
“Will Ylva go back to the pack?”, I asked.  
Geralt shook his head.  
“For her sake – and for theirs – I hope not”, he answered. “Wolrunn is the last of the pack able to change at will – except for Ylva. They have inbred to keep the bloodline going, and have become more wolf than were”.  
“I understand”, I said.

He looked at me with a sad expression.  
“I was coming back for you”, he grumbled. “We promised each other until the end of this journey. The journey isn’t over, little frog”.  
I smiled embarrassedly.  
“I knew. I suppose I just needed a reminder…”.

He exhaled.  
“I believe I just gave you one”, he said with a smirk.  
“Did you, though?”, I said. “Seems you were the only one getting any form of release”.  
“Did you not like it?”, he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you”.  
I shook my head.  
“You didn’t. Not in any way I didn’t want you to…”, I said. “But… you didn’t exactly let me find my own relief”.  
His face hardened again.  
“You think I would ever have you, and not leave you satisfied?”, he growled. He got on his knees in front of me; and began pushing me to lay down. “What gave you the idea that I was finished with you?”.

My breath hitched, as he lowered his face to my warmth; and ran his fingers from my knees to my core.  
“Lay still, little frog…”, he muttered, “…or I won’t answer for the consequences”.

His tongue slid between my folds, from my entrance to my nub, and back again.  
Letting his tongue enter me lightly – massaging the beginning of my tunnel – his fingers began rubbing at my clit; making me gasp in response.  
I lifted my hips to meet his movements; but he placed one arm across them; forcing me to the ground.  
“Lay. Still”, he said, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming. “Good”, he said, and returned his tongue to my folds.

Lapping at my insides, and rubbing my bundle of nerves; it wasn’t long before I was beginning to see stars – and I involuntarily kicked my leg into the air, from my beginning orgasm.  
“If you keep moving, I will have to tie you down”, he said into me; making me gasp from the delicious thought of it.  
“Oh, please”, I breathed.  
He chuckled.  
“Maybe some other time”, he said. “Right now, I just want to see you come like this”.

He attacked my entrance again; and kept lapping and rubbing at me. His groans and warm breath alongside this, drew me closer and closer – until I felt my core explode from delicious relief.

“That’s it. Let go”, Geralt groaned; and slid two fingers into me – pushing upwards; and drawing my pleasure out.  
He crawled up my body; still moving his fingers inside me; making me almost black out from the sensation.  
“Your face… so beautiful like this”, he said. “I want to be inside you again”.

He removed his fingers; and replaced them with his penis; softly thrusting into me, drawing my orgasm out until it was almost unbearable.  
“I can’t…”, I panted. “You… so much…”.  
“You can, and you will”, he groaned. “You’re going to keep coming around me so I can come with you”.

I cried out, feeling my body spasm – the area surrounding my vagina and inside it, literally feeling like it had its own heartbeat.  
“Keep going!”, Geralt groaned; and when I finally screamed and lost control of my limbs – slamming my hands and feet into the ground – he cried out, and once again came inside me.

I was breathing superficially; as he pulled himself out – accidentally touching my clit in the process; making me jolt violently, and cry out.  
“It’s all right”, he whispered; and wrapped me in his arms. “You’re all right”. He kissed my cheek, and looked into my eyes; the amber of his, soft and gentle. “I knew you could do it”.

\---

Geralt let me treat the wound to his side. It had already begun healing; but I wrapped it with some honeysuckle and chamomile.

“I’m going to want you again later”, Geralt said, as I was cleaning up by the bank of the lake – making me jump at the thought.  
He smiled warmly.  
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle”, he said. “But I will have to say goodbye to you soon, so I intend to spend as much time as I can inside you”.  
I smirked.  
“You’ll be the ruin of me, witcher”, I said.  
He came over; and wrapped his arms around me from behind; kissing my neck.  
“I was planning on it”, he chuckled.

He held on to me as I tied the strings of my pants; inhaling deeply.  
“Why do you smell so much like Jaskier?”, he asked. “I know you’ve ridden together, but still…”.  
I snickered nervously.  
“Yes, well…”, I said. “We needed to fool the guards”.  
He turned me around; and raised a brow at me.  
“And?”.  
“And…”, I answered, “… I had him take off his shirt, and crawl into bed with me. To make them think we’d… don’t make me say it”, I frowned.

He put his hands on my shoulders, and looked at me menacingly.  
“Oh, you’ll say it”, he snarled.  
“Or what, you’ll punish me again?”, I jeered.  
He narrowed his eyes at me.  
“You think that was punishment?”. He grabbed one of my ass-cheeks. “Woman; I have torture-methods you can’t even begin to dream of…”.  
I bit my lip and smiled.  
“You’re not getting out of this”, he said. I turned my smile into an innocent pout. “I could always just beat it out of Jaskier…”.  
“Fine!”, I said. “Jaskier had me every which way; and I’ve never had it better”.  
The witcher bared his teeth at me.  
“I’m joking, Geralt”, I said.

He narrowed his eyes again. Then he lifted me up; and began walking into the water; making it splash around us.  
“Geralt, no!”, I yelped; struggling to hold on to him, if he should drop me. “It’s freezing! Please, I’m sorry!”.  
“I know you’re sorry; and you’ll be even more sorry in a second”, he growled.  
“No! Please, no!”, I screamed.

“Is everything all right here?”, a voice called.  
Geralt turned us around. A redheaded young man on a horse was looking down at us.

“Crach!”, I yelped.  
Geralt looked at the man in recognition. He walked us back on dry land; and put me down.  
Crach got of his horse, and ran at me; embracing me and lifting me into the air.  
“Y/N, what in Hel’s ass are you doing here, cousin?”, he asked. “You’re supposed to be getting married!”.  
I laughed.  
“I’m on my way”, I said.  
Crach raised a brow at me, and looked towards Geralt.  
“Reluctantly, it seems”, he chuckled.

I remembered myself.  
“Right”, I said. “Geralt, this is Crach an Craite, my cousin…”.  
“First – once removed”, Crach interrupted.  
I smacked his shoulder.  
“Thank you”, I jeered. “Crach, this…”.

“Is Geralt of Rivia. The White Wolf”, my cousin interrupted again. “We’ve met. The witcher interrupted my wedding last year”, he smirked. I remembered hearing that the plans for Crach to marry princess Pavetta, had been broken off. I supposed being pregnant with another man, had been a dealbreaker.  
In the end; Crach had found himself another young lady to continue his ginger bloodline with.  
Geralt frowned.  
“I think you’ll find that the law of surprise did that”, he said.  
Crach laughed out loud.  
“Yeah, you’re right”, he barked. “The girl was too scrawny for me anyway. I like them plump, and with a little less of a stick up their arse”.

“So, you’ve met?”, I asked.  
“Not officially”, Geralt answered. He began packing up Roach’s saddlebags. He was being broody, and I didn’t like his sour expression.  
I decided to ignore him.

“Crach, why are you here?”, I asked.  
“To see my cousin become a queen, my geneth”.  
I punched him hard in the shoulder.  
“Do you remember what happened last time you called me a girl? I can see your nose still has the bump, from where I broke it”.  
Crach grinned.  
“She’s got a heavy hand, this one”, he said to Geralt.  
“I’ve noticed”, the witcher muttered.

Crach patted my back, making me stumble from the force, and laugh.  
“Come! Me and my lads are holed up in a tavern a few miles north of here”.  
“Then why are you here?”, I asked.  
Crach smirked.  
“There was millers’ daughter, a little way up the river”, he said.  
Of course there was, I smiled to myself.

Crach got on his horse.  
“Ride with me cousin!”. He reached his hand down to me, and I took it; heaving myself into the saddle behind him.  
“Oof! You’ve gained weight, lassie!”, he jested; and I pulled his hair in retaliation.  
I turned around to look at Geralt.  
“Let’s go!”, I smiled.  
“I’m right behind you”, he grumbled; and mounted Roach, as Crach kicked at his own gelding; driving him forward in a gallop.

\---

We arrived at the inn Crach had mentioned, to a warm welcome. Most of the men with Crach, I’d met before – with a few of them even having tried to get up my skirts. It had never worked out, as either Eist or Crach had had friendly conversations with them; that usually ended up with a black eye on the potential suitor.

“Well, if it isn’t the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige isles!”, one of them – Thorstein – jeered.  
“Hel’s ass; please tell me that hasn’t reached Kaer Trolde”, I said embarrassedly.  
The men all laughed.  
“We heard it first in Cintra”, Crach said. “I knew it could be about no one else”.  
“Face of a princess, mouth of a sailor”, Thorstein laughed; saluting me with his mug.

I turned to see where Geralt was; but he had placed himself at another table in the corner.  
I went to stand by him.  
“Come sit with me”, I said.  
“No”, he said.  
My heart dropped.  
“Why?”, I almost whimpered.  
Geralt looked up at me with hard eyes.  
“It seems it is time for goodbyes”, he said.  
“What?”, my voice broke.  
Geralt grunted.  
“Your cousin can take you the rest of the way to Vizima”, he said. “We are close enough for you to be safe”.

I sat down in front of him.  
“You promised me until the journey was over”, I whispered.  
“And it is, little frog”, he said below his breath.  
I was finding it difficult to breathe. My whole body was shivering from a sudden chill.  
“Why now?”, I croaked.  
“Crach and his men are more than capable of transporting you from here on”, he said. “If I continue on with you… It makes no sense. And you should be brought to your husband by a guard of men from your homeland. It’s proper”.  
I scoffed.  
“The fuck do you care about proper suddenly?”, I spattered. “Through the gates of Vizima, we said. You hand me over…”.  
“No”.

It was like a punch to the gut.  
“Geralt…”.  
“My lady, go to your guard. They’re expecting you”.  
“No…”, I tried.

He rose to his feet.  
“It’s done. I wish health on your marriage”.

He stroked my cheek softly, let his fingers linger on my neck for a second; and then walked out the door, without looking back.

Outside the window; the snow had begun to fall.

\---


	15. Chapter 15

15

It was just dark. And grey. And so cold.  
Crach had insisted that he should get me a room for the night – being a little vexed by the fact that the witcher had dropped me at his feet; and then, as he’d called it, just buggered off.

But he hadn’t just buggered of.  
He had left me. He had torn my heart from my chest, and then walked out the door – dropping it in the snow.  
I was empty. My missing heart was making it so that no blood was pumped though my veins. Only ice water.  
It was physical pain.

I was laying in the cold bed that had been acquired for me – the barmans own sleeping place when not rented out. Crach and Thorstein had more or less carried me to bed – thinking that it was the mug of mead, from home, lassie!; that had tuckered me out.

I lay looking at the ceiling; hardly even blinking.

I want you to be happy, safe, and content…  
I couldn’t give you what you want…  
Sometimes it’s just two creatures meeting, and reacting…  
I didn’t mean to hurt you…  
I hadn’t slept, when dawn broke. Crach tumbled into the room.  
“Get your ladythings in order, cousin. You’re about to go see your husband”, he smiled.

I inhaled, and was about to speak; but no words came out. I just sat up; as if someone had taken control of my limbs for me, and was carrying me forward.

Stepping out of the tavern, I looked down – surprised not to see the blood-spatter in the snow, from where the witcher had left my heart. I realized it must have been eaten by wild animals; as there was no way it was still inside my body.

Crach put me on his horse behind him; and had to help me wrap my arms around his waist.  
“Something is wrong with you cousin. Are you unwell?”, he said over his shoulder.  
“No”, I answered. “I’m… not anything”, I said.  
“You’re just nervous, lass”, he said. “Marriage is nothing to worry about. Look at me! I’m still the same as before. I know a miller’s daughter you could ask…”.  
“No”, I simply said.  
Crach chuckled softly, and led his horse forward.

I put my hand to my neck; searching for my frog – looking for any kind of relief.  
It was gone. Everything was just… gone.

\---

We rode for three days; taking breaks for mead and axe throwing contests. On one of these breaks, the men had had enough of my gloomy demeanor.  
“Come on, my lady!”, Thorstein said. “You always used to love these!”.  
I grabbed the axe he handed me; and looked at it in my hand. It was heavy.  
I should throw this at something, I thought. I looked up and turned around, searching for a target.  
“We put the mark over there, cousin”, Crach laughed, and turned me by the shoulders; pointing at the piece of cloth they’d fastened to a tree. “Come on, now. Just imagine it’s your future husbands’ cock. I hear he’s a right bastard; and the thought of it might make it easier for you to see him tomorrow”.

Tomorrow.  
I looked at my cousin, narrowing my eyes; and shook my head.  
“No”, I said; dropped the axe in the snow, and walked away.  
“Where are you going?”, he called after me.  
“Anywhere but here”, I called back, not turning around  
“Leave her”, I heard Thorstein mutter. “She needs some fresh air it seems”.  
“There’s nothing but fresh air here”, Crach said.  
“Leave it, Crach”.  
The men went back to their doings, and I walked on.

I don’t know how far I walked. I could no longer hear my cousin or his men. All I heard was my feet breaching the surface of the snow.  
We hadn’t been each other’s. We’d both made that clear. I didn’t want to belong to anyone, and neither did he. But then why did it feel like a part of me was gone? That he had taken it with him; and left this shell?  
The witcher.

I sat down, leaning against a tree; and then took a deep breath.  
“Fuck!”, I screamed as loudly as I had ever screamed before. A doe ran through the snow a few yards away; fleeing from the sound.  
I stood up, turned around, and put my hands on the tree; digging my fingertips into the bark. I scrunched my eyes together.

“Not mine”, I whispered. “Never mine”.  
I have to take it.  
“If I want something of my own; I have to take it”.  
Mine…  
Mine…  
My life…  
“Minn fjor…”.

My fingers began tingling. I heard the bark of the tree crack where my hands were placed; and a warmth spread through my arms – from my fingertips; all the way to my chest – where it built up.  
The tree – already having shed it’s leaves long ago – became even more bare; it’s bark shedding and turning into dust upon the snow.  
I felt air fill my lungs – it tasted like fresh dirt; leaves and wood.

Realizing what was happening; I quickly removed my hands from the tree; looking at it with horror.  
“Út!”, I yelled, and with the word came such force from my chest; that the tree cracked in the middle.

I fell to my bottom; shock at what had just occurred.

I heard horses.  
“It came from over here!”, someone called. I thought I recognized the voice.  
“Move, men!”.

I got behind the now dead tree.

“What about the Skelliger party?”, another voice called.  
“What’s left of Flaxons men will have to take care of them. Now move!”.

Crach! Fuck. What did I get you in to?

I began running in the direction I’d come; trying to stay out of the way of the men who were searching for me. My tracks in the snow would give me away, I knew – but I had to warn my cousin.

I heard horses neighing, and a man screaming. Metal was hitting metal – sword fighting.

Finding the clearing where Crach had been, it was empty. I panicked; scanning my surroundings desperately for any sign of my cousin and his men.  
“Crach!”, I called out. “Where are you?”.

“Lady Y/N!”, someone called behind me. “I’ve come a long way to see you”.

I turned around. O’Dimm was standing only a few yards from me; a broad smile across his haughty face.  
“I must say, my lady; you are looking… rough”, he smirked. “Nothing like the lovely lady I met in Kaer Trolde”.  
“I am not coming with you!”, I shouted  
“My dear, yes you are”, he smiled. “It’s your destiny. Queen…”.  
I shook my head.  
“Not of Nilfgaard”, I said.

O’Dimm walked slowly towards me.  
“Your cousin, king Eist, he almost had me fooled, with that decoy carriage”, he said. “I sent my men after it, only to have them return with information that in stead of a lady; they’d found an elven whore”. He snarled the word; making me jump at him; and claw at his face.  
He grabbed my arms; and pushed me to the ground.  
“There we are, my lady. Just relax now, as we wait for my men to take us back to Nilfgaard”, he said; his warm breath hitting my face. “Don’t worry; I won’t harm you. I’m keeping you pure for your husband; the emperor”. He sniffed at me. “Well, somewhat pure. I can smell the witcher on you”.

I pushed at him; trying to let my knee hit his groin; but he held me down.  
“I found out you were travelling with him; when one of my men caught up to me in Brugge; letting me know about, how the mutant had attacked them”.  
“Was that before or after you asked Filivandrel for help?”, I snarled at his smirking face. “It seems you are constantly having to have others do your dirty business!”.  
He exhaled deeply, letting me smell the sour wine on his breath.  
“Well, I am handling business now, aren’t I?”, he sneered.

I heart fighting nearby.  
“O’Dimm!”, someone called. “There’s too many of them!”.

O’Dimm got up; dragging me with him.  
“Too many?”, he growled. “It’s one bloody witcher. Just take him down!”.

Geralt!  
My heart lept.  
I wrestled against O’Dimms hold; biting his hand – which made him yelp, and let go of me, so that I could stand.

A man in black armor leapt into the clearing.  
“He’s got friends!”, the voice called back. “They’re…”.  
His voice disappeared in a rattle; as a sword slid through his chest; making him fall to the ground.

Behind him stood Geralt; face locked in rage.

He sprang into the clearing; and ran towards O’Dimm.  
The man grabbed my arm, and dragged me in front of him; holding a knife to my throat.  
“Stop, witcher!”, he yelled. “I will slit her throat!”.  
“What happened to loyalty to the Usurper?”, I growled.  
“I treasure my life more”, O’Dimm sneered.  
Geralt walked forwards slowly.  
“Let her go”, he growled.  
O’Dimm’s knife pressed against my neck.  
“That’s not going to happen”.

Geralts eyes met mine.  
“The tree”, he said.  
I frowned, not understanding.  
“Like the tree, little frog. You can do it”.

My jaw dropped, as I caught his meaning.  
I lifted my hand to touch the one O’Dimm was holding the knife with.  
“Minn fjor”, I whispered.  
“What was that?”, O’Dimm snarled into my ear.  
“Minn fjor!”, I screamed; and I felt my hand tingling from where I was touching his.  
It began shaking; and O’Dimm yelped; lowering it, and letting me go.

Geralt sprang forward; and threw O’Dimm to the ground. He raised his sword into the air.

“Geralt, stop!”.

Triss stepped into the clearing.  
“Leave him!”, she said.  
“He has to die!”, Geralt growled. “He will never leave her alone!”.  
Triss shock her head.  
“Destiny has other plans for him”, she said softly.  
“Fuck destiny”, Geralt snarled.

I looked at Triss; her eyes were serious.  
“You cannot do this, Geralt”, she said. “The future has use for him. You cannot change things from what they must be!”.

I understood, then. The war. This one. The next. They were unavoidable; but they needed all their players.  
I was a player, making decisions that changed the future for many people.  
But so was O’Dimm. And he needed to make his mark as well.  
Destiny couldn’t be changed; but it was fleeting. Our choices – my choices – impacted its direction.

I walked over to Geralt, and put a hand on his shoulder.  
“Geralt?”, I said. “Please…”.  
He turned his face to look at me; his eyes confused.  
“Let’s leave this place”, I whispered.

Geralt got off O’Dimm; and stood up, looking into my eyes with such… love.  
“You… I have to take care of you. Protect you”, he said.  
I wrapped my arms around him.  
“Then take me away from here”.  
Geralt put his arms around me; and kissed the top of my head.  
“Come”, he said; and stepped away from me, whistling for Roach.  
O’Dimm was standing behind him, with a furious expression on his face. In his hand was his knife; raised, to strike at Geralts back.

No! You can’t take him from me!  
I raised my hand towards O’Dimm, and screamed.  
“Út!”.  
A force – the force I had just taken from the man himself – came from my chest, and out through my hand; knocking O’Dimm to the ground.

Geralt turned, and stared at O’Dimm, and then turned his face to me – eyes wide.  
“You should probably leave this place, O’Dimm”, Triss said coldly. “Before someone decides to take destiny in to their hands”. She turned to Geralt and me. “Get away from here. Go where I showed you, Geralt”.

Roach had trotted into the clearing, and we got on her; me behind Geralts back.  
We took off into the forest.

\---

We rode for a short while; the sun setting over the trees.

Arriving at a mound; Geralt helped me off Roach, and walked up to the mossy and snow-covered rock-wall. He lifted some roots hanging down it; revealing the entrance of a cave.  
“In here”, the witcher mumbled. I followed him inside.

It was dimly lit by a few candles, and a small fire in the middle. A chest set against the wall; and a collection of blankets and pillows made out the rest of this makeshift, temporary home.

I fell to my knees in front of the fire; warming my hands. Geralt stood with his back to the wall.  
“Y/N…”, he began.

A gush of wind came from the entrance of the cave; and Triss stepped in, walking up to the fire to sit next to me.  
“Your highness… You weren’t careful”, she chided with a kind voice  
“I didn’t know”, I whispered.  
“No”, she said. “You didn’t”.  
“I think; I can only do it when my heart is in true pain”, I said. I heard Geralts breath hitch.  
“No, you can always do it”, Triss said. “But you haven’t learnt how to use it”. She took my hand. “I would like to train with you – once you’re in Vizima”.

I shook my head.  
“I don’t want to be a sorceress…”.  
“No, and you won’t be”, she said. “But… you have to learn to control it. What happened today is exactly what Nilfgaard wants”.  
Geralt groaned.  
“But she’s not going to Nilfgaard”, he said.  
“Still”, Triss continued. “This power… would we want it in the hands of Foltest? Or Calanthe for that matter?”. Geralt frowned and grunted. Triss turned to me again.  
“I want to help you, if you’ll let me”, she said. I nodded and half-smiled at my new friend.

Triss looked from Geralt to me.  
“I’ve let your cousin know, that the witcher will take you the rest of the way”, she said.  
I suddenly remembered.  
“Crach!”, I said.  
“He’s fine”, Geralt muttered. “Flaxon and O’Dimms men were still hurt from their fight with the wolves”.  
“And they had a witchers help”, Triss smirked.  
I gazed up at Geralt, who wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Triss squeezed my hand.  
“Finish this journey”, she whispered.  
She walked out of the cave, letting moss and roots cover the entrance.

We were silent for a long time.

“I was there. I was always there, just out of sight”, the witcher suddenly said. “I wanted you safe… and I couldn’t let you go”.  
“But you did”, I whispered. “To me, you did. I couldn’t feel you near. I was alone”.  
Geralt looked at the ground in front of him.  
“I saw the pain. I could see it was worse than that night in Maribor”.  
“And did you feel it too?”, I whispered.  
“I did”, he said. “And I wanted it. Deserved it”.

I sighed; too drained to cry.  
“It wasn’t supposed to end like that”, I said. “We agreed…”.  
“It was always going to end in pain”, Geralt said. “If we ever thought differently, we were lying to ourselves”.  
I looked down.  
“I know”, I said. “But… together. We were supposed to end it together. You decided without me, that it was time”.

He sat down next to me; not coming too close, to give me room.  
“I’m sorry…”, he said. “I thought it would be easier…”.  
“For who?”, I said, clenching my jaw. “Me? Or you?”.  
He grimaced.  
“I was selfish…”, he said. “I thought breaking your heart like that would make it better – more simple. That I wouldn’t have to face a real goodbye. In Vizima”.  
“You didn’t just break it”, I whispered. “You took it with you. I just thought you’d thrown it in the snow as you walked away”.

He fiddled with something around his neck; and pulled out a silver chain – with a frog pendant. My frog.  
“I would never do that. It was next to my own heart the whole time”.

I sighed; and turned my body to face him full on.  
“Then give it back”.  
He frowned and exhaled deeply.  
Carefully he slid the chain around my neck, and closed the clutch under my hair.

He put his forehead to mine.  
“If you hate me…”.  
“I don’t”, I said. “Please, just kiss me”.  
He put both his hands on either side of my face; leant in; and gently let his lips meet mine.

Some time later, I was naked; covered in blankets; and resting against the chest of the bearer of my heart.

“You never told me… what did Eist pay you to travel with me?”, I said.  
“Protection”, he muttered. “Of my… child”.  
I smiled.  
“You will see it someday”, I said.  
He grumbled.  
“And you get nothing else?”, I asked.  
“I’ve gotten plenty”, he said; and looked down at me. “It wasn’t part of the contract… but no less valuable”.

I fell asleep – my ear pressed against his chest; listening to the slow beating of his heart.

\---

The next day, we rode for Vizima.  
There should have been a solemn quiet between us; but we spoke – desperately clinging on to the sounds of each other’s voices.  
I sat with my back to his chest; for comfort and warmth – and so he could smell my hair whenever he wanted.

“Little frog”, he’d say, as he drew in the scent of my locks.  
“Wolf”, I’d answer, as the tingling of his warm breath made me giggle.

We didn’t speak about anything from before we’d met, or what would happen after. We focused on our own journey; what we’d seen, who we’d come to know - how many times we’d kissed; which Geralt found wasn’t enough; so I almost fell of Roach, when he suddenly tipped me to the side to meet my lips.  
“I won’t let you fall”, he’d said; and stroked my cheek as he kissed me.

I spoke about my mushroom stew, trying to teach him the recipe.  
He distracted me by talking about how beautiful my face was when I’d come undone with him inside me.  
That had led to a stirring neither of us could ignore - and luckily there were trees around.

“Little frog”, he’d groaned; as he gently thrust in to me, while holding me to his chest against the treetrunk.  
“Wolf”, I’d cry out; as I held on to him for dear life, while exploding in extasy.

It was our last hours together that day - and we made everything of them that we could.

Once we made it to the drawbridge of the city gates; Geralt got of Roach’s back; and lifted me down to join him on the ground.

“I’m going to walk you through those gates now”, he said, looking deep into my eyes. “The journey will be over”.  
I smiled at him.  
“You have others to begin”, I said.  
“So do you, your majesty”, he smiled.

He took my hand; and led me into the city.

I was greeted by a murmur of voices.  
“It’s her!”, I kept hearing over and over. “The queen!”.  
Geralt never let go of my hand; holding it up as a knight would a dancing partner.  
“This is weird”, I whispered.  
“You’re telling me!”, he murmured back.

There was a blaring of horns, as we walked down the street towards the castle gates. They were opened, and on the other side stood a large following of guards in their best armor; and him. Foltest.

Geralt and I walked forward – my breath catching.  
“Last chance, little frog”, he murmured. “I can put you on Roach, and get you out of this city, right now”.  
I took a deep breath.  
“Is that any way to end this journey?”, I said. “Hand me over, witcher. You have a contract”.  
I saw him smile sadly out of the corner of my eye.

We reached the gates; walked through – and Geralt placed my hand in Foltests outstretched one.  
As his hand left mine; I heard him exhale – as if he was letting go of life itself.

“My lady”, Foltest said. “Welcome to Vizima”.  
“Your majesty”, I whispered.  
“I see your escort has brought you to me unscathed”, the king said. “You should say your goodbyes. We have a wedding feast to attend”.  
I let out a breath and nodded.

Geralt was standing with Roach a few paces back. I walked up to him; desperately wanting to touch him – but I knew it wasn’t a possibility.

He looked at me with a somber smile, and began to walk away.  
“Witcher!”, I called after him; my voice breaking.  
He stopped; and turned to face me.  
“Foltest told me once; that he envied me; to live – and never have to fall in love”. He exhaled and looked deep into my eyes. “He was wrong”.

He saddled on to Roach; turned her around; and rode away – not looking back.

\---


	16. Epilogue

Epilogue - The Queen Frog

It was spring. The flowers in my private garden were budding; and a few were in full bloom – making them ripe for harvest. I walked past the chamomile; inhaling the sweet smell. It made me think of my Tootie. Thrude had passed a year ago – Eist having sent a letter with the information, and his warm condolences.  
Not long after, Mousesack had visited me. His grief was deep; but he had told me that seeing me still wearing her frog around my neck, brought him much joy.

“Mousesack; was I hurting Thrude, when she healed me as a child? Was she draining herself for me?”, I’d asked.  
The wizard laughed out loud.  
“Do you think all she was feeding you was chamomile and honey?”, he guffawed. “My dear; Thrude had years of training as a vöelve before you were even born. She knew how to heal using plants and other medicines; that was what she was using on you”. He took my hand. “She also didn’t have your powers. She was teaching you how to use what you had naturally in you; by using the words, that would help you in the future”.  
And I was learning to use them properly. Triss saw to that.

Ylva had got a cut to her arm while in a tussle with a drunkard in a tavern, who had told her women couldn’t be soldiers.  
She’d insisted she didn’t need treatment; but I couldn’t let my personal guard walk around with cuts and bruises that might fester. So, I was preparing a poultice of celandine and wolfs aloe.  
Saoirsheen walked up to me, as I was kneeling in one of the flowerbeds.

“Your majesty, he’s here!”, she smiled broadly.  
Saoirsheen had been with me, as my lady in waiting, ever since Cynnes had passed from old age three years before.

My heart leapt; and I smiled broadly.  
“Where is he?”, I asked, almost giddily.  
“He’s shoving grapes into his mouth in your dining room”, she smirked.  
I quickly wiped my hands in my apron, and took it off; handing it to her.  
“How long has it been?”, she asked.  
I frowned.  
“Not since Foltests and my two year anniversary, I think”, I answered.  
“There was that midsummer feast the year after that”, she smiled.  
I scoffed a laugh.  
“Yes, but he was piss-drunk; and had his face buried in the countess De Stael’s cleavage”, I said.  
“Right”, Saoirsheen laughed.

I walked into the door of the kitchen; then made my way up the stairs, and down a hallway to my private chambers.  
Ajvin was standing outside the door to my dining room.  
“Is it true, my queen?”, he asked; his voice shaking with excitement. “Is it really him? Will you introduce me?”.  
I smiled and nodded.  
“I will, Ajvin”, I said. “You will see him at the feast, and I will introduce you to him. Maybe he’ll even let you accompany him in a song”. I winked at the man. “For now, I need to speak to him privately”.  
Ajvin nodded.  
“Yes, your majesty”, he said, and stepped aside.

I opened the doors to the room. I never had guards outside my chambers – or inside – except for Ylva. It made me feel uncomfortable to constantly be watched by anyone else.

By the end of the large table – in my own seat, no less – sat a blue eyed; brightly smiling man.

“Jaskier!”, I said.  
The bard sprang to his feet. He ran over to me; and took my outstretched hand; kissing it.  
“Princess!”, he smiled.  
I raised a brow at him.  
“Queen…”, I smirked.  
Jaskiers smile broadened into a grin. I put my arms around him for a warm hug.

We went to sit by the table. I gave the bard a light tap over the back of his head, when he went for my chair. He took a seat next to it instead.  
“Did you eat most of the fruit already?”, I jeered.  
“I had to”, Jaskier answered. “I was worried you might start throwing it around if I didn’t”.  
I laughed.  
“How have you been?”, I asked.  
“You know…”, he said. “Travelling. Falling in love. Performing. Falling out of love. Almost died from a djinn-attack…”.  
“That sounds like a story!”, I said.  
He smiled.  
“I haven’t written the song yet”, he winked at me. “So, my queen. You have asked me to come here for a certain reason”.

I nodded.  
“Adda’s 20’th birthday-celebration”, I said. “She was very clear that she wanted the great bard Jaskier to perform. I think she has a crush on you, from when she saw you at that midsummer feast two years ago”.  
Jaskier’s face lit up.  
“Really?”, he asked.  
I frowned at him.  
“Don’t even think about it bard; or I’ll have Ylva cut of your bollocks and serve them to you on a plate”, I said menacingly. “Besides; she’s still… having troubles controlling herself; after her difficult beginnings as a striga”.  
Jaskiers face scrunched up.  
“I’ll make sure not to butter that biscuit, then”, he muttered.  
I threw a grape at his head. He laughed.  
“There she is…”, he smirked.

We sat in silence for a few minutes.  
“He’s here…”, Jaskier suddenly said. I looked at him; my breath hitching.  
“Here?”, I said.  
Jaskier nodded.  
“He owed me a favor from… almost getting me killed”, he answered. “I insisted he travel with me here, as my bodyguard”.  
I smirked.  
“Last time you did that; he ended up with a child of surprise”, I said. The bard laughed nervously.  
“Yes well, I trust you don’t have any pregnant princesses wandering the halls”.  
I scoffed a laugh.  
“No pregnancies here”, I said. “We avoid them. Like the plague”.

Jaskier sighed.  
“He wanted to come”.  
“He said that?”, I asked, and poured myself a goblet of mead.  
It was Jaskier’s turn to scoff.  
“It’s Geralt. Does he ever say anything, unless he has to?”.  
He used to say many things, I thought to myself.

I took a large sip of my drink.  
“The feast”, I said. “Tonight. You will perform?”.  
Jaskier nodded.  
“Of course. But I thought you already had a court-bard.”.  
“We do”, I laughed. “But in all honesty; he’s terrible”.  
Jaskier laughed.  
“Why keep him?”.  
I smiled warmly.  
“He’s a good boy; our Ajvin”, I said. “And he’s managed to spawn 4 children with his wife. He needs the pay”.  
Jaskier grabbed my hand.  
“You’re a good queen, your majesty”, he said. “And a kind woman”.  
I grinned at him.  
“Maybe; but I still have the mouth of a fucking sailor!”.

We laughed together; when suddenly there was a knock on the door.  
“Yes?”, I called.  
My good friend – the court-enchantress – stepped in.  
“Triss!”, I smiled. “You’ve arrived! How was Aretuza?”.  
She smiled.  
“Filled with the grunts and moanings of old men; as per usual. I’ve come to celebrate the princess. I’m in desperate need of some cheer and good times”.  
I stepped over to give her a hug.  
“Well then”, I said. “Let’s have them!”.  
Triss nodded.  
“Yes”, she said. “But tomorrow – training!”.  
I scoffed.  
“I’ll be hung over…”.  
The enchantress smirked at me.  
“All the more reason to train. It’ll wake up your brain”.

I hadn’t used my powers for anything serious since my run in with O’Dimm. There had never been reason to. But they remained there; and I knew I had to control them.

Saoirsheen came into the room then.  
“Your majesty. I was unsure whether you wanted the velvet or the silk gown tonight”.  
I frowned.  
“Hel’s ass; can’t I just wear pants?”, I said.  
Triss laughed behind me.  
“Come, bard”, she said. “Our Zaba has preparations to make”.

They went to leave through the door.  
“Jaskier!”, I called after them. “If you sing that song…”. I looked at him menacingly.  
He grinned at me.  
“I’ll take my chances”, he winked; and he and Triss left the room.

\---

I was standing in my bedchamber; brushing my hair.  
He’s here.  
It was like a jolt through my body, just thinking of Jaskier’s words.  
I wondered if he’d changed. I knew I had. I was older; though only a few years – but I knew that those years on the throne, had rid me of at least some of the rough edges of my former life.

I’d taken my role as queen seriously. My husband had been respectful, even kind. And he listened to me; and guided me through the complicated politics of court life.  
I recalled how terrified I’d been; standing in front of the grim man at our wedding. Not a smile had ghosted his face at any point of the ceremony. Just hardness.  
So I had taken him as being that. Hard. Cold. I’d had so much to learn.

Our wedding had been grand. I’d kept from crying my way through it, by reminding myself of the people that needed me to be here.  
Jaskier had told his most thrilling stories, and sung his best songs – even on my wedding-day I could not avoid The Foulmouthed Princess of the Skellige Isles.  
It had made my new husband laugh heartily. The first time I saw him smile.

I remembered that night with him – our wedding night – as we had shared a meal in private; before we were to go to bed.

I was picking at my food; heart in my throat from what was to come. And I remembered Geralts eyes before he turned around, and walked out of my life.  
“My lady”, my new husband suddenly said. Not my queen or my wife. “It is vital to me, that I make it clear, why you are here”.  
I gulped.  
“I am at your disposal; your majesty”, I whispered.  
“I need a queen at my side; and a mother for my daughter”. Foltest drained his goblet, and looked at me. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the urge for a bedmate; so, I shan’t be bothering you for that”.  
I was flabbergasted; sat, mouth agape. The king took my hand in his own two.  
“You will have a crown; a home; and public displays of my chaste love. And your cousin and his wife will have my armies”. He looked down. “My heart still belongs to my daughters’ mother; however repulsive you might find that. I hope you can live with me on these terms. If not…”.  
I sighed, swallowed; and looked up at him, meeting his pained eyes.  
“And what of friendship, and respect?”, I said.  
“Friendship?”, Foltest asked.  
“I can live with you on your terms. But I cannot be a puppet to be put on display, whenever it suits your majesty. I wish to be heard; and seen as a queen and woman in my own right”.  
Foltest stifled a laughter, and narrowed his eyes at me.  
“I was told you’d be a handful”, he murmured. “I will treat you with whatever respect you earn from me; and I promise never to be unkind. Should this seem to you as friendship, I have nothing against it. I’ll welcome it”.  
I smiled and nodded.  
“Then you have your wife”.  
He put a chaste kiss on my hand. “And you have a husband”.  
So, I was queen. And it was good, for many people. My cousin. His wife. Those were less important to me.

But then there were people like Saoirsheen; and others like her; who needed a safe haven, that I now had the power to create for them.

Ajvin and Lysa; and their brood of children. The bard sang and performed as best he could – bringing cheer and laughter to the courts hearts, every time he played a false note.

Filivandrel and his people – whom I’d promised to stop Nilgaard from using me for evil.

Ylva and her pack. She’d never gone back; but in stead was now my greatest protector and personal guard.  
Flaxon had showed up shortly after the wedding with a sour expression on his lips; and I’d informed my husband of his crimes.  
“Your majesty; you’d belive this woman over me?”, Flaxon said.  
“You ask me if I believe my wife – the queen – over you?”, Foltest said. “Yes, Flaxon. I do”.  
He’d been stripped of his rank; and now spent his days in a Maribor cell. The one I had been placed in myself, those years back.

Five years. Five years of learning and growing.  
Days of boring meetings, where my husband would roll his eyes at me behind the back of his counsellors.  
Days of working with Triss; and riding the fields and forests outside Vizima, on my stallion – Bayrd.  
I’d been a mother. Not to a child I had given birth to myself; but to a teenaged girl with a troubled heart and mind. And I’d guided her, best as I could, with the help of Triss. I would tell her fairytales about moonwraiths and witchers, succubi and bards. And I’d stroked her hair when she could not sleep from nightmares.  
I loved Adda, and she loved me. But she was difficult.

Saoirsheen joined me in my chamber; carrying a purple velvet gown.  
“Oh gods”, I said. “Not that one!”.  
Saoirsheen smiled.  
“The princess insisted”, she smiled. “Mother looks so pretty in that one, she said”.  
I sighed defeatedly.  
“Fine”, I said, and took the bundle of fabric from my ladys hands. Saoirsheen went to look for shoes for me. “Would you like to take a bath before the feast?”.  
“No”, I said. “After. I think I’ll need it to calm my nerves”.  
The half elf smiled.  
“He’s in the courtyard”, she said.  
I looked at her.  
“Thank you, Saoirsheen”. She set a pair of shoes on the floor in front of the bed, and took her leave.

I walked to the window; and looked down into the courtyard. I found him instantly.

He was talking to one of the stable-hands; with a very serious expression on his face. The man nodded – looking terrified – and took the reins of a red mare from him; leading it into the stable.  
“Not next to the black stallion!”, I heard the witcher growl after him.

My breath hitched; and – as if he’d heard me – he looked up.  
His amber eyes found mine; and I parted my lips – having to remind myself to breathe.  
Looking at me; his expression was warm and strangely sorrowful. His lips twitched into a smile for a second.

It was as if we stood there for hours; just looking at each other. Suddenly, his head turned; and I saw Jaskier walking towards him. The bard patted his shoulder, and said a few words; before looking up and meeting my eyes with a grin.  
I nodded at them both; and stepped away from the window.

I had to sit on the edge of the bed for a second; to control my shaking hands.  
Saoirsheen came back into the room.  
“The king is expecting you, madam”, she said.  
I nodded; and begun the task of getting dressed.

Purple velvet; draping over my body; like a 10 layer cake. White, frilly lacing across my chest, and at the bottom of the sleeves and skirt.  
I put on my necklace – the one with the small frog landing between my breasts.  
Saoirsheen managed to tame my hair into a somewhat regal style; and I went to join my husband, outside my chambers.

Foltest took my hand and kissed it.  
“You look beautiful, my queen”, he said warmly.  
“I look like a fucking dessert”, I said.  
He chuckled; and led me down the stairs to the great hall.

\---

Horns blared when we entered the room.  
“Yes, yes. We’re here now”, I muttered bellow my breath.

Adda was already dancing; sashaying around a young count, who was having great difficulty in keeping up with her energy.  
I nodded at Triss, who was in deep conversation with a visiting wizard from Ban Ard - looking terribly bored.

Foltest and I went to our thrones – ridiculous things that I hated sitting on – to overlook the festivities. Adda looked at us and waved, with a grin on her face.  
Jaskier was playing a happy jaunt; and she skipped over to him, twirling around in front of him. He smiled cheekily; before looking at me.  
I raised a brow at him, and winked, then gestured at Ylva; who was lurking menacingly in a corner.  
The bard gave a nervous giggle, and returned his focus to his lute.

“We’ll have to get her married off soon”, my husband murmured.  
I sighed.  
“Yes, well… you know how I feel about that”.  
He frowned.  
“She’ll have the choice of man she wants”, he said. “I just hope she makes the right one”.  
I squeezed his hand.  
“We’ll guide her”.

“I received a letter from your cousin today”, Foltest said; taking a sip from his goblet. I’d turned him on to Skelliger mead.  
“With 10 barrels of your favorite, I’m guessing”, I said.  
He chuckled.  
“You know me too well”, Foltest chuckled. “He sends his best, and speaks of his grandchild”.  
I clenched my jaw.  
“Anything in particular?”. I had not seen Eist in years; and knew very little about his and Calanthes grandchild – the child of Pavetta.  
Pavetta herself, had drowned while travelling from Skellige to Cintra; and I knew that it must have broken Calanthes heart; making her overly protective of the child.  
“Not much. It grows healthily”, Foltest said.  
“Good”, I said quietly.

I was deep in thought, when suddenly the king sat up straight.  
“Is that the witcher? Geralt of Rivia?”.  
I looked up.

The doors had opened; and there stood Geralt – stripped of his weapons, and looking very uncomfortable.  
My mouth opened; but I couldn’t speak.  
“I haven’t seen him since he brought you here”, Foltest said.  
“Five years”, I muttered.  
“Yes”, my husband agreed. “I owe him a great thanks for his service”, he said smilingly.  
I tried to match his smile; feeling very short of breath.  
“Bring him forward”, the king said to his crier.  
I dug my fingers into the armrest of my throne; convinced that I’d fall of my seat if I didn’t.

“Geralt of Rivia; witcher!”, the crier called out, and an embarrassed looking Geralt stepped forward.  
He looked at Foltest, and nodded.  
“Your majesty”, he said.  
His voice still sent shivers down my spine – dark and brusque, but bellow it, a great warmth.  
His eyes met mine; and he got on one knee – bowing to me. Geralt doesn’t bow to anyone.  
He took my hand; and kissed it – the feeling of his lips to my skin an instant reminder, of where else on my body they had been.  
“My queen”, he muttered.  
He stood back up, facing Foltest.

“Witcher”, the king said solemnly. “When I saw you last, I did not thank you, for your protection and care of my wife”.  
Geralt smiled.  
“The honor was mine”, he said.  
Foltest laughed.  
“Come now, witcher!”, he said. “We both know she can be a bloody pain in the ass!”.  
Geralt laughed; and I bit my cheek to avoid saying something un-queenly.  
“None the less, my friend”, Foltest said. “I am honored to have you here for this celebration. Just don’t start any fights, or claim any children”, he jeered.

Geralt looked at me somberly.  
“Am I to understand congratulations are in order?”. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.  
“No”, I said quickly. The first word I had spoken to him in five years.  
Foltest took my hand.  
“Alas, the gods have not blessed our union with any children”. He looked at me meaningfully. I smiled.  
Geralt narrowed his eyes at me.

Foltest drained his goblet.  
“Well”, he said. “I brought you forward to thank you, and so I will. Thank you, witcher”. He kissed my hand. “Now; I will go dance with my daughter. Sit with my wife; entertain her. She’s been very bored lately; I’ve noticed”.  
Foltest got up; and went to join Adda.

Geralt sat down in the chair next to me. We were quiet for a while.  
“A-are you well?”, I stammered.  
“I am”, he grumbled. We were quiet for a moment longer. “And you?”, he said.  
“Yes”, I smiled.  
Geralt looked towards the floor, where my husband was lifting my stepdaughter into the air; and twirling her around – to great applause and cheer from the guests.  
Jaskier was making a grimace; and trying to nod approvingly at Ajvin; who was playing his best rendition of The Fishmongers Daughter.

Geralts body so close to mine sent waves of warmth through me.  
“Does he… treat you well?”, the witcher asked.  
I smiled.  
“He treats me like a queen”, I answered.  
Geralt grunted.  
“With all that entails…”.

I looked at him and laughed.  
“Are you jealous of my husband, witcher?”.  
He scoffed.  
“What? The sweaty sister fucker?”.  
I frowned softly.  
“My husband…”, I began. “My marriage… it’s turned out very differently than what I had imagined. In spite of the sister fucking”. I took a large gulp of my mead.  
“How so?”. Geralt lifted a brow at me.

I sat up straight; trying to look completely at ease with our conversation. It wasn’t like it was his business – but I felt that he should know.  
“My husbands… carnal desires, aren’t much to speak of”, I smiled meekly. “I haven’t been with a man since…”. I bit my lip.  
“Your wedding night”, Geralt said.  
I met his eyes.  
“Since you…”.  
Geralt looked stunned.  
“Oh!... well…Fuck!”, he said.  
I smiled.  
“Well, not really”, I said.  
He chuckled and nodded.  
“Right…”.

Foltest came back to sit with me; panting.  
“I am getting to old for this”, he said, out of breath. “Do you dance, witcher?”  
“I do not”, Geralt chuckled.  
I smiled.  
“You don’t dance. You don’t sing”. I raised a brow at him. “Is there anything you do?”.  
He smirked at me.  
“Kill monsters and tame frogs”.  
I laughed. Geralt stood up and nodded his head at us.  
“I should go fulfill my duties to the bard”, he sneered.  
Jaskier was being held against a wall by a baron; who’s blushing wife stood by, looking at the scene.  
Geralt took my hand, and kissed it again.  
“Your majesty”, he said softly. He narrowed his eyes at me. “That dress looks ridiculous on you”, he whispered. I chuckled in response.  
The witcher went to help his friend.

“He made you happy”, Foltest muttered. I looked at him in shock. He squeezed my hand and smiled warmly at me. “I might be old, but I’m not blind”.  
I looked down.  
“I want you to be happy, wife”, my husband said softly.  
I sighed.  
“He did”.  
Foltest nodded.  
“We need drinks and music. Bard! Sing that song we talked about”.

Jaskier – having been let lose by the baron – stepped onto the middle of the floor; and began.

“Once a lady from Kaer Trolde fared,  
with skin so smooth, and beautiful hair.  
She held the heart of many a man;  
but mouths stood agape, when she speaking began.”  
Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me  
And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee.  
Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea  
And I shall be ever a servant of thee  
The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles  
The foulmouthed princess,  
the foulmouthed princess,  
the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles!”  
\---

I partook in the festivities as long as I could manage; before – with a smile to my husband, and a kiss on my stepdaughter’s cheek – I retired to my chambers.  
It was good to see him, I thought to myself. He would be gone in the morning.

As she’d promised; Saoirsheen had had the maids prepare a bath for me. I shed myself of the monstrosity Adda called a dress, and was about to step into the tub; when I realized that they’d forgotten to leave towels for me.  
I didn’t want to call out for help. I hated being waited on; and only accepted Saoirsheens help; because she was more friend than servant. In combination, she and Triss made me feel like I was still in my Tooties warm embrace.

I wrapped myself in a robe; and went to the door, to make my way to the linen closet down the hall.  
I opened the door; and was met by Geralt.  
“Saoirsheen said…”, he began. “She said to bring you these”. He handed me two towels – one for my hair, another for my body.  
I took the towels.  
“Thank you”, I said, meeting his eyes.

I stepped back for him to enter. He looked around the room.  
“It’s very different that a tavern”, he said.  
“Or a wood shack”, I smiled. He grunted a smile back.

I went to lay the towels next to the tub. It was steaming.  
“I was about to have a bath”, I said.  
Geralt nodded.  
“Yes, of course”, he grumbled. “I’ll come back”. He went for the door.  
“No, please!”, I halted him. “Stay… talk. It’s been so long. The water is to hot anyway”.  
He smirked.  
“That’s never been an issue before”, he said.  
I chuckled.  
“Five years in a castle and on a throne has made me a weakling, I’m afraid”, I said.  
“Never”, he muttered.

I looked at him; unsure what to say.  
“B-but you. You’ve not changed…”, I said.  
“Never more than what I told you that time”. I have changed. You’ve been a part of that change.  
He looked at me meaningfully. I swallowed hard.

“There must have been someone else, witcher”, I said.  
Geralt grunted.  
“There was… maybe is…”. His expression became tentative.  
I smiled.  
“Our lives are different now”, I said. “I always knew… You don’t owe me anything, Geralt. You are allowed to love”.  
He sighed deeply.  
“I did love…”, he said; and met my eyes.  
“As did I”, I answered quietly.  
He frowned.  
“And now?”, he asked.

I took his hand, and pressed it to my lips.  
“You wrote your name on my life”, I said. “As I wrote mine on yours. What we were… are… no one and nothing can change that”.  
The witcher smiled softly.  
“What we’ve taken and given”.  
I nodded.  
“I can’t say that you will always have a place in my heart; because that would mean that you’d left it”.  
He grunted, and squeezed my hand.

I sighed. Take it.  
“There is another place you will always have, though. A place I know you will have to leave”, I said. “But… it will always be here for you when you come back”.  
He looked at me confusedly.  
“What do you mean?”, he said.  
I smiled; and slid my hands behind his neck.  
“For all your improved eyesight, witcher…”, I said, “… you are blind”.  
I pulled his face to mine, and kissed him.

It had been so long, but the warmth; the passion… it was all there.  
Geralts hands found my waist; pulled me to him.  
“Little frog…”, he breathed.  
“Always”, I whispered.  
Our kiss became heated – his warm body familiar; yet new. His tongue tasted like a million unspoken words. Words that he had saved for me; but could never utter.  
I pulled back.

“You can send me away”, he said.  
“I won’t”, I whispered.

Squeezing his hand; I stepped over to the door, and bolted it. I felt him moving up behind me; and his hands slid around my torso; as he drew in the scent of my hair.  
“Still…”, he said. I smiled at the sensation of his warm breath to the back of my head; and turned around to face him again.

I put my hands on his chest.  
“I want…”, I began.  
“Yes?”, he said.  
“I need…”.  
He pulled me towards him; and slid his finger from my chin; down my collarbone; and rest it by the pendant between my breasts.  
“Tell me, your majesty”, he smirked.  
My breath hitched; as the finger slid behind my robe; and found my breast – stroking softly just above my nipple.  
“Geralt”, I breathed. “Will you let me finish my sentence?”.  
He chuckled softly; and let his hand cup my breast - his thumb stroking the nub of the nipple.  
“If you can…”, he said. “Tell me. What is this place you have for me?”.

I took his free hand and drew it down my torso.  
“Here”, I whispered; and placed it between my legs; letting his fingers find my folds.  
He groaned as he found me already wet from want. I threw my head back and gasped; almost throbbing already, when his index finger slid between my labia; stroking the path from my nub to my entrance, and back again.  
“It is a good place”, he smirked.  
“Then explore it more”, I moaned.

He growled; and pushed me against the door; sliding two fingers into me.  
“I have missed this place”, he chuckled. “It is warm… slick… always wanting”.  
I mewled.  
“It’s wanted you for five years”, I said.  
He leaned in to me; pressing his fingers deeper inside my warmth.  
“Hmm”, he breathed into my ear. “That must be why it is so much tighter than I remember”.  
His palm began massaging my bundle of nerves; drawing swearwords from my mouth, not even I knew I had in me.

Geralt used his free hand to open my robe; and pull it off my shoulders – before dropping it on the floor.  
“I think the bath is cool enough. Let’s go warm it up again”.  
He drew his fingers from me – making me moan from the lack of contact – and put them in his mouth, tasting. The look of pleasure on his face; was enough to make me gasp and my tunnel tighten.

“I want to undress you”, I said.  
He smiled, and stepped back; letting my arms free for my task.  
I opened his jerkin, and pushed it off his shoulders; making it hit the floor with a bump. Running my hand across his chest; I walked around him. I slid my hands under the hem of his shirt; running them up his back, and lifting the fabric along the way.  
He helped me pull the shirt over his head.

I gently kissed the scar on his shoulder, where – so many years before – I’d treated his wound from the fight with the foglets. Cinnamon and neem. No chamomile.  
I felt him shiver under my touch.  
“Are you cold, witcher?”, I said. “Or do I scare you?”.  
He chuckled.  
“You’ve always scared me little frog”, he said. “But no more than now”.  
I stepped in front of him, and tilted my head.  
“What are you afraid of?”, I asked.  
He looked suddenly apprehensive.  
“That I’ll close my eyes; and when I open them again, you will be gone”.  
I smiled.  
“I’m here”, I said. “Now remind me that you are as well”.

Geralts eyes grew dark; and I swallowed hard, remembering what that expression on his face had led to, when we knew each other before.  
“Bath”, he growled.  
I gasped as he picked up my naked body; and carried me to the large tub. He leant down; as if to gently seat me in the warm water; but stopped a few inches above the surface – found my eyes, and grinned at me.  
“Geralt…!”, I managed; before he let go, dropping me into the water with a splash.  
I heard him laugh as I was resurfacing; and rubbing the water out of my eyes.  
“You’ll pay for that!”, I snarled; without being able to stifle my laughter.  
He quickly removed his boots and breeches.  
“I have the best currency right here”, he smirked; and released his hardness from his pants.  
My jaw dropped.  
I have missed you, I thought; sitting face to face with that most cherished part of his body.

Geralt stepped into the tub; making the water splash onto the floor. He sat down facing me; and realizing I was too stunned to move; he pulled me onto his lap, so I was straddling him.  
His fingers found my folds again.  
“Remember that night?”, he breathed.  
I moaned.  
“I remember many nights”, I smiled, panting. “At taverns… in haylofts… against trees… under the stars”.  
He chuckled.  
“You were so angry”. He slid his fingers into me again; his palm against my clit. “So beautiful”.  
I began riding his hand.  
“You wouldn’t let me come in the bath”, I breathed. “You made me wait”.  
He put his free arm around me; and pulled me close. I threw my head back and closed my eyes.  
“I won’t make you wait this time”, he growled into my ear; and his fingers and palm worked in perfect coordination – pushing and rubbing – until I was just about ready to come.

“Look at me”, he demanded. “I want to see your eyes”.  
Panting and mewling, I opened my eyes, and met his. His pupils were blown from lust; and his lips were pulled back into a snarl.  
“Do you want this?”, he asked; and I nodded with bated breath.  
“Then come for me, your majesty!”.  
His hand moved faster; and without breaking eye-contact; I rode him into extasy. My loins felt like they combusted; and my walls clenched around his fingers.  
In the end, I collapsed onto his chest.

He gently drew out his fingers, and removed the hair from my face to look at me.  
“This I remember”, he smiled.  
“What?”, I panted. “My well and fucked look?”.  
He growled.  
“I haven’t fucked you yet”.  
I felt his hard cock twitch against my stomach; and I smirked.  
“Well, as long as you’re here…”, I said.  
He narrowed his eyes.  
“Not yet”, he said. “I seem to remember as well; that you have a mouth on you”.  
I bit my lip.  
“That fucking lip”, he rumbled; pulled my face in for a kiss; sucking hard at my lower lip. “Get up”, he demanded.

I got out of the bath; my body dripping with water. Geralt got up behind me; his member rigid and wanting.  
“Bed”, he said; and with bated breath I walked over to the bed; seating myself on the edge of it. “No. On your knees”.  
I narrowed my eyes at him.  
“Are you asking the queen of Temeria to kneel for you?”, I smirked.  
His eyes were animal.  
“I’m telling you, woman; to get on your fucking knees and face the bed”.  
With shaking legs and a pounding heart; I did as I was told.  
“Good”, the witcher said; passing me to sit down in front of me on the bed.  
He looked at me for what seemed like forever. Then his face warmed, and he smiled.  
“Please”, he said. I smiled up at him.

Sliding my fingers around his shaft; I placed the head on my tongue; instantly recognizing the taste of him. I let out a moan; and slid him into my mouth.  
He groaned above me; sliding his fingers through my wet hair.  
I ran my nails down his torso; playing with the hair there; before gently cradling his testes.  
I bobbed my head up and down; never breaking eye-contact with the witcher. He smiled at me so gently; making me feel as if I had never looked more beautiful.

“How many nights I have thought of you like this”, he moaned. “Your hair wild, and your eyes… Shit!”.  
He cried out, as I took him deep into my mouth, sucking and swallowing; so he would feel the tension around his hardness.  
“Careful; someone will hear us!”, he breathed.  
I pulled him out; and pumped his length.  
“No one will hear us”, I said. “My rooms are empty at night, save for myself – and the occasional guest”.

Geralt looked at me wonderingly.  
“You said you hadn’t been with anyone since me”, he breathed, as I continued pumping him; and lapping at his tip.  
“I said I hadn’t been with any men”, I smirked.  
Geralts eyebrows raised, and he chuckled at me.  
“You’re always a surprise, woman”, he said.  
I stroked my tongue from the root to the tip of him.  
“I like to think of my life as a series of journeys”, I smiled.  
He placed both his hands on the sides of my face; drawing me to him.  
“Well”, he rumbled. “Let’s go on another one”.

He met my lips; and let the tip of his tongue met mine; before picking me up by the waist; and straddling me on him.  
I grabbed at his cock; desperately wanting him inside me; but he took a hold of my wrist; stopping me.  
“No”, he said.  
“No?”, I asked.  
He bared his teeth.  
“Hungry”, he growled. My eyes widened.

As if I weighed no more than a small animal; he flipped me around; laying me on the bed.  
He grabbed me behind my knees; and tugged me towards him – the sudden jolt of it making me gasp.  
He kneeled in front of the bed, and looked into me.  
“Has it changed much?”, I smiled at him.  
He exhaled and narrowed his eyes.  
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to taste it”.

I drew in a breath; and his lips closed around my folds. He stuck his tongue inside me; after which he slid it up between my labia – letting it flicker over my nub.  
“Still sweet”; he said softly; before diving in again – taking the same route. “But more…”. He paused.  
“What?”, I breathed.  
He sent me a wicked smile.  
“Royal”.  
I laughed; which soon turned into a mewl, when he once again dove in to me. He flattened his tongue; and stroked it up and down my slit – all along holding my hips down; so I couldn’t move.  
“Fingers!”, I moaned.  
I heard him chuckle, and he slipped his fingers into me again; pressing upwards.  
His lips closed around my nub; and he suckled at it. First softly, then hard – as if he was in fact trying to devour me.  
My legs began shaking; and I once again saw stars and contracted around his fingers.

As I was still laying – panting – Geralt moved up my body; wiping his face of my juices.  
“I think I’ll have you now”, he growled smilingly.  
My breath heaving; I nodded, and spread my legs further for him to enter me.  
“No”, he said.  
I was dumbfounded  
“No? Geralt!”, I panted.  
He smiled.  
“I don’t want to use you up to fast”, he said; sliding his hands around the outsides of my breasts. He sucked at my left nipple; while pulling at my right. “I don’t think I ever had you here”, he said.

My lips parted.  
“No, you didn’t”, I said.  
“May I?”, he said. I bit my lip; and he groaned; catching my mouth in a brutal kiss; before straddling my waist, and placing himself between my breasts.  
He pushed my warm mounds around his hardness, and began thrusting slowly. He was careful not to place his full weight on me as he went; but his eyes were wild – the amber staring all the way into my soul.  
I scratched my nails down his chest, and he growled.

He was pulling at my nipples as he thrusted, sending sparks from them to my core. My small mewls every time I felt one of them, made him smile.  
“I will have to be careful I don’t come like this”, he groaned.  
“You were always able to continue quite soon, after you’d finished”, I smiled.  
“Yes”, he said. “But I want to come inside you”.  
He lifted himself off me, and looked at me; eyes suddenly soft.  
“Can you take me?”, he asked “It’s not been long since you came last, and I don’t want to…”.  
“Just fuck me, Geralt”, I said, and laughed.  
He smiled widely.

“Do you remember that first night we laid in bed together? At the inn?”. He ran his fingers from my collarbone, between my breasts; all the way down my stomach; ending up in my curls, playing with them.  
I laughed and nodded.  
“I thought you hated me”, I said. “I’d just tried to run away; so you tied me to the bed”.  
He placed himself between my legs; and lifted my knees – leaving me open for him.  
“That whole night I was pretending to sleep. In reality I wanted nothing more than to press my body against yours, and…”, he slid his fingers between my slick folds, opening and entering me, “… slide in to you”. His breath was warm against my neck, as he began moving slowly; his thrusts soft and swaying.

“I’m not sure I would have tried to stop you”, I breathed; moving with him; his hardness and the delicious ripples of its veins sending shivers through my body.

“It would have been a bad-mannered move of me. I did have you tied up to the bedpost”, he chuckled. I returned his laugh; and gasped as he made a single deep thrust, bottoming out in me with a groan.

“Again?”, Geralt smiled.  
“Yes, please...”, I said.  
He kissed me and our tongues met; massaging eachother - as he continued thrusting softly; and then bottomed out again.  
The feeling made my walls clench - and I came for the third time that night; taking us both by surprise.  
“Fuck!”, I yelped; making the witcher chuckle at me.  
“It is good I can still have this effect on you”, he said, letting my walls settle around his member - still inside me. “Are you ready for more?”.

I gasped as he thrust into me again,  
“Slow and sweet is still not your way. Is it, master witcher?”, I moaned into his ear.  
“I can go as slow or fast as you want, your majesty”, he said; dark voice almost warning me.  
I scratched my nails down his back, and locked my legs around his waist.  
“What about what you want? Why don’t you show me that?”.

He lifted his head, and looked at me warily.  
“Are you sure? I might hurt you…”, he said.  
I swallowed.  
“I want you to do to me, what you wanted to do that night”, I breathed.

His eyes darkened, and he put his lips to my mouth, quickly pressing his tongue between my teeth, and meeting mine. I felt a sting on my thigh, where he was digging his fingers into my skin.  
His thrusts became harder.  
“Say it”, he said. “Say you’re sure”. His pupils were blown, darkness taking over in him.

“I’m sure”, I said.

He made a groan, and pulled out of me; the sudden emptiness in my core almost painful from want.  
He flipped me over with a single hand on my hip; making me lay on my side, and placing himself behind me.  
Pulling me close to him with one hand; the other one grabbed my wrist, and placed my hand on the bedpost; closing it around the wood. He wanted me to hold on to it; as I had been tied up that night.  
He grabbed himself, and slid back into me; bottoming out in one thrust. I cried out from the feeling of it.

“Are you alright?”, he asked, his breath catching.  
“Y-yes”, I stammered. “Don’t stop”.

His arm around my torso; he held me firmly to his chest – putting his hand on my shoulder, so that I was nailed onto him.  
“I’m going to move now”, he said. I nodded and panted in anticipation.

With a loud groan, he pulled back; and slammed back inside of me – making me feel as if he was reaching all the way into the deepest parts of my being.  
He made the same move again; this time making me shiver so hard from pleasure, that my hand fell from the bedpost.  
Geralt grabbed it, and firmly put it back around the wood; clenching it to let me know not to let go. His hand then travelled to my neck, lightly squeezing my jugular.  
He moved again, slamming into me with a force I didn’t know could exist in lovemaking.  
My walls began to clench; as Geralts thrusts became more consistent.

His chest-hair tickled my back, making me giggle.  
“Something funny?”, he growled into my neck.  
“It tickles!”, I laughed.  
He continued thrusting in to my core.  
“This”, he said, slamming into me hard, once, “tickles?”.

I gasped loudly, and followed the sound with a loud moan.  
He squeezed my throat a little harder.  
“I’ll show you tickles”, he snarled; pulling out, and flipping me onto my stomach.

He placed both my hands on the headboard; once again making it clear that I was not to remove them from there.  
Putting his hands on my hips; he forcefully lifted my bottom into the air; and gave it one hand spank – making me yelp in surprise.

“Too much, little frog?”, he said, sliding his hand from my bottom, up my spine to my neck; before grabbing my hair, and turning my head to the side. He leant over my body; his still throbbing member poking at my thigh as he spoke.  
“I can stop any time”, he smirked; and slid a finger between my labia, tracing the shape of my entrance.  
I shivered; shook my head and turned it forward – holding on firmly to the headboard.  
“Good girl”, he whispered; before smacking my cheeks one more time, grabbing my hips; once again bottoming out inside of me. He held himself there, letting me adjust to the sensation.

Not satisfied with his lack of movement; I moved myself forward, and backed up against him again; trying to coax him to thrust.  
In a sudden movement, he lifted my torso against his; one hand on my breast, the other holding my throat; slightly squeezing. His hold on me was strong, both arms around me like firm logs covered by soft leather; and I melted against his broad chest.  
His length was still inside me, like a warm rod; forcing me to stay upright. I winced from the sudden sting of his fingers tweezing my nipple; and felt my whole body shiver as his voice rumbled from his chest.  
“I thought I told you before”, he said. “Don’t play with fire”.  
“Well, you never did punish me”, I croaked.

In an instant my hands were back on the headboard, his own hand covering them; making me lean forward again.  
He began thrusting hard, continuously making my whole body jolt forward each time his hips met my ass.  
Placing his right hand on my lower back; his thumb moved between my cheeks, probing at the ring of muscle there, intensifying the sensation of his thrusts.  
The muscles in my thighs were seething from the strain of holding my bottom raised. Geralt continued to thrust into me; but realizing my predicament, slid his left hand under me to hold me up – taking advantage of his finger’s closeness to my nub, to tease and rub it. He was now stimulating my entire intimate area.

I could no longer moan silently; my walls once again clenching around him from the sweet sensations of his fingers along with his brutal attack on my vagina.  
I began mewling loudly, accompanying the sounds of his groans each time he bottomed out.

A thundering current, pulsating to the rhythm of his thrusts, began spreading from my core, throughout my limbs. It was at once a hot and cold sensation, that made my fingers shake, until I could no longer hold on to the headboard, and fell forward; with my face into the pillow.

Suddenly it felt like I shattered. A sweet mixed sensation of pain and pleasure spread into every inch of my body. My legs began to shake, my arms and shoulders jolted – and I opened my mouth; and screamed.

Geralt did not stop. Continuously moaning and grunting, he slammed, slammed and slammed into me; almost lifting me into the air with each thrust, from the sheer force of it.

I was losing control of my limbs, and the growling beast behind me was relentless in his excavation of me - while simultaniously rubbing and teasing my most sensitive spots; to force me to continue orgasming around him - giving him pleasure, and drawing mine out.

Behind me, Geralt roared; and with a final hard thrust into me, he came undone; and fell over me – our bodies still attached.  
Panting, Geralt lifted the hair from the back of my neck, and kissed it gently, before rolling of me, and onto his back; sliding out of me in the process. My face was still buried in the pillow.

He slid a finger down my back.  
“Are you alright?”, he asked; sounding worried.  
I turned my face to look at him; my body still convulsing in aftershocks. I tried to nod, but it disappeared in one of the jolts.

“Y/N?”, he asked, distressed. He pulled me into his arms, stroked my cheek and removed the hair from my face. His fretful eyes searched my own. “Say something!”.  
“I… can’t move”, I breathed.  
“Did I hurt you?”, he asked.  
“N-no”, I stammered. “I haven’t… so much… in a long time... ever...”. I couldn’t finish my sentence.

He breathed a gasp in relief, before laughing at my expression.  
“I told you”, he said; and pulled me to lay across his chest.  
“Mhmm”, I answered, my eyelids heavy. “You did. But I wanted it. It was good”.  
His chest rumbled from his chuckle.  
“Just good?”.  
“Hhmmm…”, I sighed, and yawned.

He put his arms around me, and ran a hand through my hair.  
“Sleep now, little frog. I might want you again in the morning”.

“Hhmnn frog…”, I mumbled – and drifted off.

\---

He did have me again in the morning; twice. And then one more time in the afternoon, before I waved him off from my window; his note to me, still in my hand.

Until the next journey, little frog.  
\---


End file.
